Stardust
by Faux Pax
Summary: Series of vignettes focusing on Neal (Bae)/ Emma / Henry dynamic.
1. The Hardest Part

This is the first in a collection of semi-related ficlets all focusing on the Neal/Emma/Henry dynamic. After Tallassee, I couldn't get them out of my mind. MRJ nailed everything and the relationship was heartbreaking. The chapters aren't necessarily going to be in chronological order, but it won't matter. They are all stand-alone anyways.

I am, however, subscribing to the theory that Neal is Bae and all of the chapters will reflect that.

As always, enjoy, and don't be afraid of the little box at the bottom that is hungry for reviews!

* * *

"Do you believe in magic?"

The words trickled down Neal's back like Ice against the Phoenix heat. It was an innocent enough question. He knew there were those in this world who believed in magic—believed in the stories adults told to keep children in line—but the real thing didn't exist here and that was the point.

That is why he had been free here. No matter what his nightmares told him, magic, and the Dark One was out of his life for good.

But then why did this strange man seem so different. There was something about him that sent the hairs on the back of Neal's neck standing on edge, and it only had a little to do with the creepy stalker-like interest he was showing towards Emma.

"I take it you do."

August smiled this impish, knowing smile. Not unlike the one that so often haunted Neal's nightmares. "So will you, trust me." He said, walking towards his bike.

Maybe if August had looked back he would have seen the truth in Neal's face—there was no will. Neal didn't have to believe in magic, he _knew _and nothing would ever change that. Nothing would ever swap that knowledge for restful nights—dream catcher or no.

Something inside Neal twisted as if he knew what was coming next. Every instinct within him told him to run, to take off in the other direction and never look back; but that was the cowards way out and, of all the things Neal was, both good and not-so-good, he was not a coward, for he had learned long ago that cowardice only brought on a hundred times more pain then courage, even if it was not the cowards that truly suffered in the end.

Neal followed him as he walked over to a vintage bike and placed his hand gently on the wooden box strapped to the back.

"I'm going to show you something—something that's going to make you look at everything differently—and when you see what I have in here you're gona listen. You're going to believe every word I say."

"Yeah right." Neal scoffed, briefly wondering if this guy had any idea just how ridiculous and overly dramatic he sounded.

Neal looked down into the box and what he saw turned his blood to about the same temperature as one of that Icees Emma had gotten him to try once as they were shoplifting their way across the western states.

_Even mutes can draw a picture. _A sing-song voice echoed in his memory and Neal had to fight to keep the bile from spewing forth like something out of a bad horror film.

The single piece of paper in it wasn't threating in the least…or it wouldn't have to anyone else. they would have just seen a single drawing, but Neal knew differently. It was a calling card; a haunting vision from a world he had tried so hard to put behind him. But now, as he read the single name scrawled across the blade, he knew that life had caught up with him and history was about to repeat itself.

He didn't bother to hide his shock. There was no point.

"Kay, I'm listening."

It killed him to say it; to look at August in the seconds before his world shattered again, turning something beautiful and perfect into nothing but dust born from nightmares and a life he had been trying to put behind him for the past ten years.

"There's a curse. And it needs to be broken. Emma is the key."

Neal closed his eyes and let it all sink in. Of course she was. She had to be. That's just the way his life went; for the first time in a long time he had a home, a family, and even though it was just he and Emma, even though it was just four wheels instead of walls, he was happy.

And so by the natural order of things, magic has to come and fuck that up to. Neal would even bet that his fa—that the Dark One had something to do with it too. Ten years and a world away that bastard still managed to bring his worst nightmares to the surface. Every. Single. Time.

August continued, the knowing smirk never leaving his face. "I was tasked with keeping her on track and you, my friend, just got caught in the crossfire."

Neal's eyes snapped open at the sound of the last word—a word far too close to a name and a life he had long ago buried—and he couldn't help but wonder if August was playing with him; if the word choice was deliberate.

"Now I'm goanna tell you a story and at the end of it you're going to have to make a decision. Will you do the right thing? Or not." August said as Neal tried desperately to hold himself tougher as his world came to a stuttering halt.

"So are you ready?"

* * *

Neal stood; half slumped against the course brick wall, staring at the cellphone in one hand and the unfolded wanted poster in the other.

They had discussed this, agreed it was the only way out—the only way Emma wouldn't look for him or follow him. it was the only way she could do what had to be done.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch, though.

Emma was his everything and had been since the day she had stolen his already stolen car. And now he was about to stab her in the back in one of the worst ways possible—now he was going to have to make her hate him—and that killed him a hundred times over with every breath.

He would give anything not to have to do this—he would even rather be trapped forever in the dark, lonely moment when his father had let go, condemning him to this strange world…alone. But he had nothing left to give.

And in a way wasn't it fitting that his happiness be sacrificed along with everyone else? Neal wasn't stupid. The very fact that the curse had brought everyone to this world of all places, could only mean that _he _was behind it. This was all to find Neal and so if he was the catalyst to all this, then way she he get his happy ending.

Emma's destiny was bigger than him and he loved her enough not to hold her back.

He looked at August, not even trying to hide the lost look in his eyes.

August nodded, his face just the same as before and Neal couldn't help a flash of anger. Did the man feel nothing? Was his heart make of wood or stone? Something they didn't beat like the rest of them?

But in the end, he was right. Neal had to do this and he had to do this now.

The receptionist picked up on the second ring and Neal tasted salt as he spoke, struggling to keep his voice from quivering. "You know that Morgan's jewelry store robbery? The one back in May? Well, I have some info. There's a girl hanging out at the parking deck by the train tracks and she has one of the watches. Check today's security footage from the train station. She pulled them out of a locker."

He hung up without another word and pulled the battery out of his phone. To do the right thing, she had to think he was the bad guy—had to think he was completely abandoning her. Besides, he didn't have the strength to talk to her, not after this. maybe one day when all this was over, all this magic shit said and done, he could find her, explain everything and beg for another chance…or maybe by then she would have some other man in her life, someone to keep her smiling.

Either way as long as she was happy…

Neal slid down against the wall and put his forehead against his knees. August stepped forward and showed the first bit of empathy Neal had seen from the bastard.

"You oaky?"

Neal snorted. Of all the crazy things to ask.

He shook his head, his face still buried in the denim of his jeans. He wasn't oaky. He wasn't going to be oaky for a long time.


	2. From Bad Enough to Even Worse

By gods people! Out of 280 views you gave me 20 followers, 9 favorites, and 9 reviews (most of which were more than a single sentence long!). SwanThief is no longer my favorite ship. You guys are. Really, thank you. Please try and keep it up. You have no idea how much that made my day!

So to celebrate, I have skipped class and decided to finish the next story. Originally, I was going to do the reunion between Neal and Rumple for this chapter but I figured that, since people are actually reading this, I might as well try and keep it at least mostly in some kind of chronological order.

By the way, is anyone good a poker and wouldn't mind helping me with one of these? I have an idea for a Storybrooke wide Poker tournament but have never played the game.

* * *

Neal turned off the car and got out, resting against the hood, he stared at the bright orange line drawn across the road. For the past decade, his every moment had been waiting for this one, and yet he couldn't bring himself to cross.

Emma would hate him. He knew that; hell, he had known it well before he ever started dialing the number that night. And he wasn't ready to face that. All he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and beg forgiveness, but to do that he was going to have to face her…and that was going to kill him.

It had been bad enough betraying her from afar, but to actually see the hurt in her eyes was a whole different story.

He had tried to move on—to get over Emma and what he had done—but he had about as much success with that as taking a gun to a dragon fight. Perhaps he had just spent too long in the other world, the one where everyone only gets one true love, but he knew she was it.

Sure he had tried to date a few times, but it never lasted long. It wouldn't have been right for him to lead them on—he knew that even if he did care for them, there would never be real love.

And now he had a chance—no matter how slight—to make everything better again. And that was all that mattered.

Taking a deep breath, he got back into the car (stolen of course—for a city with so much fucking traffic, not many can afford to legitimately keep one) and drove into town.

A part of him wanted to take off, maybe find August or Rue and get the whole story before tried to see Emma, but there was something about this place that wouldn't let him.

It felt like home—the Enchanted Forest. Neal could feel the magic here and until that moment, he had never realized how much he truly missed it. Shure he had left that world to get away from it but it had just been that one, dark and terrifying kind. Just because a kid is afraid of thunderstorms doesn't mean they've never played in a puddle.

There was a diner on the right, and that seemed about as good a place to start as any. Besides, the trip had been long and he could use a bite to eat.

He sat down quietly at the bar next to a dark haired boy and gave his order to the waitress—a pretty girl with an over fondness for wearing Red. As he waited, a voice from behind him sent an odd combination of fear and longing shooting down his spine. It was a voice from his childhood and, although he had none of the sing-song cadence of ground glass and glitter, the voice still haunted his nightmares.

Neal pretended to look out the window while staring at the couple in the booth out of the corner of his eye. There were no signs of magic—no glittering skin, no yellowing eyes—that spoke of the Dark One. Here, despite the magic seeping from the land, it would seem that Rumplestiltskin was just a regular, ordinary man like everyone else.

"It's odd, isn't it?" The waitress asked, pulling his attention away from the booth as she set his slice of pie down in front of him.

"What?" He asked, putting on his most charming smile.

The waitress looked at him with an are-you-kidding me look, as if she already had this conversation a hundred times over.

"Gold with a girlfriend."

Neal looked back, and for the first time really looked at Rumplestiltskin's companion. His eyebrows shot up. She was young—like younger then Neal young. And yet it was impossible to deny the look in her eyes. Neal had seen that look directed at him once and knew with it was instantly. Love.

"Yeah, it's odd alright." He muttered, taking a bite of his pie.

"You know, I haven't seen you around here before," the kid said taking a bite of his own pie and grabbing his mug of hot chocolate. Neal wasn't sure if he was just curious or accusing him of something. Maybe both.

"Maybe I haven't been around here before," he teased and the boy's brow furrowed.

"Strangers don't come to Storybrooke," he said as if it were one of those undeniable truths of the world. And truth was it probably was.

"Maybe I'm not as much of a stranger as you think."

The kid looked him over, measuring him. "Are you a friend of August's?"

Neal smiled knowingly at the kid. Whoever he was, he was sharp…sharp enough to make Neal feel a twinge of pity for his parents. He had to be a handful.

"We've met," he muttered, unsure whether or not he could really call the older man a friend.

"Speaking of August," the waitress said, turning to the boy, "has there been any word?"

The boy nodded morosely. "The dwarves found a little bit of fairy dust in the mines. It was enough to fix him."

"That's great!"

"But that's it. It's not enough to bring Mary-Margret and my mom home and I'm worried."

The waitress leaned down so that her face was at about the same height as the kid's. "Henry, listen to me. David's not going to stop looking until he finds a way to bring them back; you and I both know this. And Snow's not going to let anything happen to Emma. Your mom will be fine."

It took a couple seconds for what he heard to click, but when it did, the truth fell into place with all the gravity of a freight train smacking him head on. He set his fork down, fighting not to choke on his pie, as he turned to look at the boy—at Henry.

The moment came in a horror-movie kind of slow motion—perforated in the same kind of slow dread that had taken over that night, meeting August. Neal knew what he would find—knew he didn't even have to look because that's just how his life worked. Whatever happiness magic could take from him, it would.

It was bad enough he had had to betray the woman he loved and get her sent to prison just so she could fulfill her destiny and clean up the mess his father had made. Why not top that by making her pregnant with his kid as well?

There was no denying it. Not when he really looked at the kid. There was just too much of Emma (and himself) in Henry's face.

Neal took a slow, steadying breath, and turned to the waitress.

"Speaking of August," He said, struggling to keep the conversational tone in his voice, "do you know where I could find him? I have a few things to…discuss with him"

"He's staying over at Granny's Bed and Breakfast, right around the corner." She said.

Neal smiled as he slapped a couple bills down by the half eaten pie, but he knew it didn't reach his eyes. He was too much in shock to even try.

"It was nice meeting you, Henry." He said getting up.

"But I don't know your name." Henry said, turning to look at him.

_Father, Dad, Papa. Any of those would work. _"I'm Neal, Neal Cassidy."

* * *

"Got your postcard." Neal said, as August opened the door.

"I can see that." August gave an impish smile, and Neal was agiain struck at how much he hated that look. Which was fair enough really, considering how many people who were it seemed intent of fucking up his life.

August stepped back and motioned for Neal to follow him into the room before shutting the door behind them.

Once Neal was sure they had privacy, he turned on his 'friend.'

"Did you know?" He asked, his voice harsh with emotion.

"Did I know what?" August asked, playing dumb.

"About Henry." The words came out as a strange half hiss, half curess and August looked down in guilt.

That was all the conformation Neal needed.

August pressed his palm against his nose, trying to stem the blood flow as he tilted his head back. "Would that have made it any easier for you to do the right thing? Would it have changed anything?"

"Your damn right, it would!" Neal shouted, not caring if the whole building could hear.

"Exactly!" August said, looking around for a tissue.

Neal narrowed his eyes. August was acting like it hadn't changed anything. Like Neal would have just had to give up both of them. But it would have changed everything.

It had almost destroyed him to do what he had to do before, when it was just Emma, but Henry too? He wouldn't have had the strength. He would have found another way. No matter what it took, he would have found some other way.

"Now," August said, shoving a Kleenex up each nostril, "are we going to fight some more or do you want to hear about what's going on around here? I kinda figured you'd think finding Emma was a bit more important than fighting over something that's already over with."

Already over with? Had that puppet been huffing wood varnish or something? It has just begun. Neal narrowed his eyes. Had it not been for Emma, he would have been trying to find the nearest wood chipper in this town. But if there was one thing the bastard was right about, it was that finding Emma was more important.

"Start talking or I turn you into Jeff Dunham's next act." He hissed and pulled up a chair. Something told him this was going to be a long story.


	3. Trinkets and Testimony

Wow guys…just wow. There are not words for this. You guys rock. I think more love has been shown for the first two chapters of this then almost everything else I have ever done put together. A few of you have mentioned that I need a Beta and I'm working on that but you guys give me so much love I just want to sent it all back as fast as i can...

And a super special thank you to AuntBee on the Oncepodcast forums. She (I'm assuming) mentioned that she had seen this story and it made my day. Also a big shout out to Dan flin on the same podcast. He read an excerpt and I started hyperventilating so bad my roommate had come check on me (I think she thinks I'm a weirdo now) and then I had to finish this tonight. But really guys, take a look. The podcast is epic, and if you don't mind living in the spirit of election season and voting for them in the podcast awards (they'll tell you how) that would be amazing.

Thank ALL you guys. The love you show me is constantly making my feels explode!

* * *

Neal looked over at the drawing on the table and sighed. Most people would consider him a decent artist if they ever saw any of his work, but no one did. The sketches he did were always dark and bloody—a way to exercise his demons, the ones that had gotten their hooks deep into his nightmares and refused to let go—and they all suffered the same fate.

Taking a lighter out of his pocket, he held the sheet of paper up by one corner and watched as the ash landed on the table. As cathartic as the scent of burning paper was, Neal knew that it hadn't really helped anything; inside his mind or out.

He had just spent the last two hours getting caught up in this strange little town and what he heard sent his blood boiling and most of it had to do with Rumplestiltskin.

Normally he didn't hold grudges—he knew that keeping stuff stewing inside only made it worse when it did show itself, but his feelings towards the Imp were more complicated. A part of him always just wanted his papa back, even now that he knew it wasn't possible. Another part of him, though, just wanted to bash the old man's skull in, especially after risking Henry's life like that and to bring magic here of all things!

Neal had heard the tale; had heard about how magic was like a drug. He knew better than anyone what the consequences of that were—what kinds of monster it can create. And it probably hadn't helped that originally the bastard had been so helpless to begin with. Take a man with a lot to be angry for and give him a little bit of power and it never ends well. Especially when that power is something as dark and—

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Henry," he said honestly surprised. The kid stood there clutching big leather-bound book in his hands.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" He asked on autopilot, the words sounding stupid even to his ears. How many times had he skipped class during the short time he had been forced to go? The newfound father in him whispered that it was different. For one, Henry was ten, but more than that, school couldn't be as hellish for him as it had been for Neal.

Kids were nothing but sharks and if you throw a kid who's a little different—who, for all intents and purposes, comes from the dark ages and doesn't know half of what's going on—it becomes sink or swim.

That year his lessons weren't history or math or any of that. That year he learned how to smile and charm the teachers so that they didn't think he was crazy; he learned how to just be silent and watch—how to get enough info from others before speaking so that he didn't seem stupid; and he learned how to fight.

And it was also where he developed his unfortunate case of sticky fingers but that wasn't the point.

Henry smiled. "August said there was a development with operation Viper."

Neal didn't have time to ask what operation cobra was. August stuck out the door to his own room.

"I think there was a miscommunication. I said we had a new guy to help develop operation Viper. You didn't have to skip school. "

Henry's face fell and Neal felt like kicking August. If Rue hadn't fixed him, the man's nose would be a foot long by now. His motives were obvious and Neal appreciated the excuse to see his son (his mind still hadn't gotten used to that, and he had a feeling it would be a long time before he was completely comfortable with the thought) but that was completely unfair to get the kid's hopes up. Not about this.

"But a fresh pair of eyes never hurt." Neal said, trying to save the situation. He moved aside and motioned for Henry to come in.

"Listen Henry," August said, leaning against the doorframe, "I really wasn't expecting you to come over until after school and I already told my dad that I would go over to the shop this morning. Do you mind staying here and filling Neal in on what we're trying to do?"

Neal shot August a dirty look. Off all the tricks for him to pull, this was probably the one Neal was least prepared for…and most excited about.

Henry had been in his thoughts as much, if not more, then Emma, than his fa—then Rumplestiltskin. How could he not be? But Neal's opportunities to get close to him were severally limited. He already stood out as a stranger and Henry was a high profile kid. The last thing Neal needed was to be labeled a creeper, at least not until Emma was back to clear up the paternity issue.

"Sure."

After August left Neal had no idea what to do. Here he was, the first time ever in a room with his kid (without about a million other people around) and all Neal could think was 'what now.' Luckily for him Henry went straight to business.

He plopped the book down on the bed and started thumbing through the pages.

"Henry?" The boy looked up from the book and stared at Neal.

"Hmm?"

"What's Operation Viper?" He asked, curiously.

Henry looked at him a little funny, like it was something he should already knew. "The plan to bring back my mom and Marry Margaret. I thought August filled you in."

"He did he just didn't call it that. It didn't click," he said motioning to his head. Truth was August didn't mention much of the details about what had been going on post his past catching up with him citing the fact that he wasn't exactly the most mobile of people then.

Henry smiled a knowing little smile, "That's the point of code names."

"Yeah, of course."

A beat as Neal basked in the surrealness of it all. He had come to this town—this hell of the Dark One's making—expecting to find the girl he betrayed; to beg her to understand, to forgive, all the while trying to dodge his past like an elephant in a mine filed. And yet that all got pushed to the side in this moment where in an odd way, he was beginning to get the first taste of something he had lost a long time ago: family.

"Hey Neal?" Henry asked, curiously.

"Yeah kid."

"So why are you here? I know you're August's friend, but strangers can't just come to Storybrooke."

Neal thought for a moment. Just how much should he tell the boy? It killed him to admit it, but he didn't know anything about Henry. He didn't know his birthday, his favorite color…or his capacity to keep a secret. And yet he knew how much lies hurt those around you; that was the last thing he wanted for Henry even if it could potentially open a can of worms Neal prayed would stay on the shelf.

There was really only thing to do.

"Can you keep a secret?" He asked, kneeling down so that he and Henry are eye to eye.

Henry nodded.

"I mean really you can't tell anyone," Neal repeated, emphasizing his point. Henry just nodded again and Neal took a deep breath before letting the truth fall from his lips like the remains of vomit after a bad nightmare.

"I was born in that world and I escaped through a portal before the curse." There was something both horrible and cathartic in that single truth—in those words he had never spoken aloud. Even when he had met August, the writer seemed to know most of his story already and, as creepy as it had been, he had been relieved not to have to tell it himself.

Henry's eyes widen

"Really?"

Neal nodded, watching both wonder and excitement spread across his son's face. Something was happening in the boy's mind—some gears were clicking into place, but Neal had no idea what. At least not until Henry explained himself.

"Did you come through the wardrobe too?"

Neal tilted his head confused for a second. He had some brief flashbacks to a children's book that he was supposed to read in school (not that he did—he didn't mind reading but when even when fiction mentions magic he can't help but get a bit squeamish) but he shook that thought away. It didn't fit. Besides hadn't August mentioned something about…oh that's right. That's how August and Emma came through.

"No I used a magic bean."

"Do you still have it?" Henry asked and Neal could see where the kid's thoughts were taking him.

Neal shook his head, following Henry's idea. "It was a onetime use kind of thing."

"Oh."

Neal reached under the bed and pulled out a small box and started rummaging through it. He had never really been the sentimental kind of guy, but there were just a few things he could never bring himself to get rid of even if he should have: a few pictures of Emma and him on their roundtrip, ticket stubs from that time they stopped at Disney, a picture of his mother drawn from a fuzzy memory, a letter to his father he had written before running that the older man had never seen, the postcard, and there, buried deep at the bottom was a single bean. There was no magic left; its glass-like shell cracked like a marble.

Neal always meant to throw it away but could never bring himself to do it. Maybe something good could come out of it now, if they had the right help.

"But maybe with enough fairy dust we can get it to work again."

Neal knew it probably a stupid idea. If news of that bean got out, it would send red flags up for the one person he didn't want to face but this was more than worth it. If it would give Henry a bit of peace of mind…if there was a chance it could get Emma back, then it was worth it.

"The dwarves are looking but they are having trouble finding it." Henry said, dejected and Neal's heart throbbed. The kid was trying to be tough but Neal could see right through that and into the worry that was eating at him. "I overheard Leroy and Gramps talking. They say it's unlikely that they'll be able to find much more without their axes."

"They don't have them?" Neal asked, knowing their importance. Fairy dust was almost impossible to find in the wild, but those things were enchanted: the axes honed in on the substance like a magnate.

Henry shook his head.

"They're in Mr. Gold's shop, but he won't give them up."

Neal's eyes narrowed. Of course. If there was something going wrong in his life it could usually all be traced back to that one source.

Henry let out a yawn.

"Trouble sleeping?" Neal asked, recognizing the signs.

Henry gave a guilty smile.

"I haven't been sleeping well."

"Nightmares?"

Henry nodded once and Neal furrowed his brow. He hoped that the nightmares were just because of what happened—were just out of worry—and not something deeper and darkener in his life. August had told him about his adoptive mother but apparently for all her evilness she would never hurt him…but that's what Neal had thought about his father and not all pain is physical.

He walked over to the headboard and pulled the dream catcher down from where it was hanging. It hadn't made all of his nights restful, but there was no denying it had helped. He knew it would be inviting the nightmares back, but he didn't even flinch as he handed the thing to his son.

"Here it's a native American dreamcatcher. It's supposed to be like fly paper for bad dreams. If you hang it up in your room it should protect you."

"Is it magic?" Henry asked.

Neal's face darkened. More than once he had wondered the same thing, but each time he had pushed the thought aside. Even if there were, it wouldn't have mattered. That thing—magic or not—was all he had left of Tallahassee, of the dream he and Emma had shared. It could have had as much magic as that fucking dagger and it still would have gone everywhere with him.

"No. But it's special. Someone very precious gave it to me."

"Your true love?" Henry asked and Neal was struck at just how perceptive he was, especially for his age.

"Yeah," he said. Most other people, the ones from this world at least, would have been hesitant to use such romantic words. They never understood love when they saw it, not sure it even existed, but Neal had grown up in a place where magic was everywhere; where love was almost guaranteed for those brave enough to seek it, so how could he call Emma anything but?

There was a buzz. Henry looked at his phone. "I need to go before Gramps realizes i skipped."

"Alright Kid see you." Neal said, trying to hid his disappointment that Henry couldn't stay longer. But it was alright. When Emma got back they would have all the time in the world.

If she didn't kill him first.


	4. Deserve

"Hey kid. Whatch'a doing? ," Neal said raping his knuckles on the window. The kid had been sitting out there almost motionless in the bug for the past forty-five minutes. The waitress from the diner—Red, her name was—kept an eyes on him, but no one bothered him. Henry just sat out there all alone and Neal couldn't help but be worried; it couldn't be healthy. And so there had been only one thing to do.

It didn't really matter that he could feel half the town watching him (but given their lack of experience with outsiders, he wasn't surprised), but he didn't care. Henry came first and if anyone didn't like it they could shove it.

"Hey Neal," Henry said, rolling down the window. "Just hanging out." Neal had to struggle not to frown. The kid's voice was far too morose he could read the depression coming off him in waves.

There was a beat of silence as Neal stooped down to rest his arms on the windowsill, so that he and Henry were eye to eye.

"It's my mom's car and it feels like…"Henry began, as if offering an explanation but it was unnecessary. If anyone understood, it was Neal.

"Home?" he finished and Henry nodded.

"I know it sounds weird—" the kid continued, as if he had to explain.

"Naw, I get it. The most at home I have ever felt was in a car like this one." Actually it was this one, but that didn't matter. Besides it's not like he was actually lying to the kid, it's just that was a truth for later—after Emma got back.

Seeing the bug parked in town had both surprised and elated him. A part of Neal had been afraid that she would sell it—getting rid of every trace that he had ever been in her life. But she hadn't. No matter what happened between them, she had kept the car, even when she could have dumped it in a junkyard and used the money to buy another.

It was the first sign of hope Neal had, that maybe she didn't completely hate him. That maybe he could earn a second chance.

"Me and my girlfriend spent three months just driving around the west."

"Really?" Henry asked, a note of curiosity in his voice.

"Yeah," he said, his lips twitching in to a nostalgic little smile as he gazed down the road, his mind years and miles away. "Sometimes we would stop in the middle of the night, as far away from anywhere as we could get, and sit on the hood and watch the stars. She would tell me the stories behind the constellations here and I would tell her the stories from back home…she just always thought I was making them up."

It was odd. Here he was, was telling the kid more than he had told anyone—even if he was glossing over the particulars of the trip. Some of this stuff was things Emma didn't even know. That he could never bring himself to tell her (and really, would she have believed him if she had?).

"Was this the some girl that gave you the dream catcher?"

"Yeah," he said, wondering if it were just that obvious. "How's that working for you kid?"

"It's helping," Henry muttered and Neal could tell that it hadn't completely caught the dreams. He wished there was something more he could do, but not a thing came to mind.

"Is she in storybrooke? Your true love?" It was a desperate attempt to change the subject, but Neal let it slide. If the kid didn't want to talk about then there was nothing he could do about it.

"No, she's not."

"But you're looking for her. Right?" Henry asked, as if there really was no other option and really there wasn't—there never had been. Even when he had to push her away in one of the worst ways possible, Neal had known that one day they would meet again…if only for him to see that she was happy elsewhere…

"I'll find her."

Henry's face grew intent for a moment, as if forming a thought, until his face spread into an infectious grin.

"Emma used to be a bailbonds person before she came to Storybrooke, so she's really good at finding people. Maybe she can help find her when she gets back."

Neal chuckled a bit at the irony.

"Alright then, we'll just have to work that much harder to get her back."

Henry smiled and then his face fell slightly.

"Neal?" he asked, "Why can't I tell anyone about the bean, I mean if it could help get my mom…"

Neal sighed and had to think quickly. He didn't want to lie to Henry, but the truth was just too dangerous. He wasn't stupid; the truth would come out eventually, but Neal had to drag it out as much as possible. Maybe when he knew Emma was safe…

"I don't want the information to get back to someone evil and in a small town like this, secrets don't stay secret for long." It was an oversimplification but it was the truth.

Henry looked a bit confused as he tried to figure out who Neal was talking about, but blessedly let it go.

"Can I tell my grandpa?"

Henry pointed to a man leaning against the wall to the dinner, talking on a cell phone, his eyes watching Henry and Neal like a hawk, ready to swoop in at the first sign of trouble.

"That's your—?" Neal began but then stopped. "I keep forgetting that the curse screwed with everybody's ages."

Henry smiled and shrugged as the man closed the phone and started walking over.

"Who's this?" He asked Henry, his voice cordial while eyeballing Neal suspiciously.

It was odd meeting Emma's dad like this, but Neal was glad. He and Emma and never really spoken about their past—it was understood that neither of them wanted to talk about it—but Neal had known how much she had wanted to be part of a family…her family.

And she deserved it and more.

"Neal Cassady, and you?" Neal said offering his hand.

"David Nolan." David said, grabbing his hand and giving it a firm shake. Neal kept his expression casual, careful to keep all sigh of challenge from reaching the other man. He wasn't stupid, he knew the (supposedly) older man was sizing him up, measuring him in his mind. It was just the hazard of being a stranger in Storybrooke.

David let go of Neal's hand and turned to Henry. "Blue just called. She's found a way to contact Emma and Snow."

Henry's face lit up as David slid into the drives seat. He leaned over so that he could see Neal through the passenger side window.

"It was nice meeting you Neal." There was a warning tone, a message that, had he not had more pressing things to do, Neal would have been facing an inquisition.

As he watched them drive off, Neal couldn't help but wonder just how much David knew. Was he just naturally this protective or had Emma told him about what happened?

Either way, Neal knew David wasn't going to make this easy for him.

* * *

"You have no right to do this." Neal said as David shoved him into the cell without bothering to unlock the handcuffs. Neal hadn't been surprised that the new sheriff had a bone to pick with him, but arresting him in the middle of the diner was a bit much…especially since Henry was right there.

"I think you'll find I do. I'm acting sheriff and you have a stolen car and an outstanding warrant for grand larceny and in case you didn't know that's a felony."

David leaned against the desk and smiled. It was clear he was having too much fun with this and that could only mean one thing. If he hadn't known before, he sure as hell did now.

"Emma put you up to this, didn't she?" He asked knowing the answer before he even asked. The truth of his situation hit him in the gut with such a cold vengeance he had to sit down, careful not let David see just how much it had affected him.

Emma had reason to hate him; Neal had long ago accepted that, but to know that she actually did…well, that hurt more than he had been prepared for. Neal had expected hostility and anger—how could there not be after what happened?—but expecting and experiencing it were two entirely different things.

"She may have left a tip on what to look for and where."

Neal wanted to smack the shit eating grin off of the man's face. Neal got it, really he did. He had screwed up and Emma was David's daughter; giving Neal a hard time was kind of in his job description. But the bastard didn't know anything about what had happened, he hadn't even asked.

Neal got up and walked over to the bars and looked David straight in the eyes, for the first time that day letting his anger and frustration show.

"What are you going to do, extradite me, Nolan?" He said, every word a challenge. "Tell me, who drew the short straw? Who's going to have to lose their memories just to hand me over to the feds?"

David's smile widened, but he didn't move; he hadn't taken the bait.

"No one," he said, crossing his arms. "I guess you're just going to have to sit there."

"How much did Emma tell you?"

"She told me enough to know you deserve every moment of this." David answered, not bothering to hide his delight.

"You're enjoying this far too much." Neal accused. David unfolded his arms and, in three steps, was in front of the bars. They both stood there nose to nose as David looked at Neal like something small and in insignificant—something he would like nothing better than to squash beneath his shoe.

"I'm her father. There's no such thing."

"There's a lot about what happened that even Emma doesn't know," Neal said, determined to hold his own in this little pissing contest despite the good three inches of height David had on him.

The sheriff's smile got even wider and more shark-like.

"I'm listening," he said as if inviting someone to tell a joke he knew wouldn't be funny only embarrassing to the one who told it. Looking at him, Neal couldn't help but be reminded of those jackasses that made school hell for him. The ones that had everything—the preverbal princes—who took joy in tormenting the outcast all the while being adored by everyone else.

"No. Emma gets the story first."

Neal didn't care if the whole town knew what happened, but Emma deserved to hear it from him first and not from some half rate rumor mill.

"Then I suggest you get comfortable."

David turned to leave and Neal waited until he was almost out of the door before speaking.

"Sometimes, Nolan," Neal said, stopping David in his tracks. David looked at him over his shoulder but did not turn to face him. "To do the right thing you have to send away those you love most. Even if it hurts them. Even if it might be cursing them worse than they already are. Sometimes to do the right thing for many you have to break yourself. From what I hear, you would understand that better than most."

An almost unnoticeable flinch shot across David's face and Neal could tell he had struck a nerve. Good. That's what he meant to do.

"Emma deserves more." David said, his voice losing some of his bravado.

"Of course she does. Emma deserves the world, but unfortunately life doesn't really seem to care what people deserve. If it did you think any of us would have been caught up in this insanity?"

There was a beat of silence as David considered this.

"Goodnight Cassidy." David said, switching off the lights as he walked out, ignoring any sympathy Neal's last words might have gained.

He hadn't even unlocked the cuffs. Neal didn't complain though; he had kind of expected that.

He just opened his fist and gave a little chuckle. For someone who was supposed to be trained in swordplay, the prince had been completely oblivious as Neal picked the keys right out of his pocket.

It was awkward but it only took him a few seconds to unlock the cuffs and the cell, which was good because he only had a few minutes before Emma's dad came back to get his keys. But by then Neal would be gone.

Neal slipped out the back door and into the night. He had to get Emma home and there was only one way to do that.

* * *

Hey guys. Quick question. Do any of you have any request for things you want to see (besides the obvious). I had originally intended this to be something of a collection of unconnected things but a plot grew. The thing is that I actually want to continue this beyond what I have outlined, so any suggestions?

Because you guys have kept up the love, here's a bit of a spoiler: next chapter Neal and Gold meet and someone figures Neal out (although I won't say who and what they figure out).


	5. First Contact

Alright guys, some news.

First off, I know I promised you that someone would figure Neal out this chapter. Well, I had to move it. This chapter was supposed to be three scenes but when I did the skeleton (the dialogue and a few bits of stage direction) it got to be about six pages. That's too much for one chapter. Especially if I wanted to keep the posting schedule at least partially consistent. That part is going to either be next chapter or the one after, which means you have more chances to keep guessing.

Here's a tip: Emma already told David, so it can't be him.

I know a lot of you want to see that conversation and it will happen. The story is from Neal's POV so after he has said his bit, I will go back and fill in some of the blanks and that if at the top of my list.

Second, for those of you who even pay attention to ratings, this chapter got a bit violent so I upped the rating to "T"…if any of you care.

And lastly, although I will try, I can't guarantee more than two chapters this week. For those of you who are not in college or have yet to go, here's a word of advice. No matter how much the professors may deny it, I am positive that they actually conspire to have everything due at the EXACT SAME TIME. So yeah…

As always guys, enjoy and thanks for the love you have continued to show me.

* * *

Neal had long ago stopped being surprised at the kind of curve-balls life threw his way, but that didn't make it any easier to see Mr. Gold standing in his room rifling through his belongings. He was looking for something but Neal wasn't sure what. Maybe it was axes, or maybe he was looking for some trinket—some clue as to Neal's deeper identity. If that was the case, he wouldn't find it.

After a lifetime of pickpocketing and cons, Neal knew better than to keep the evidence where it could be found. He had hidden his box in a place no one would think to look; a place it would be safe…

He wasn't ready for this. Emma was the reason he was here, not Gold, and yet here he was facing down the very creature that fueled his nightmares since he turned fourteen.

Neal took a deep, silent breath. This was it. The moment—the test.

"Are you looking for something in particular, or were you just enjoying the scenery?" Neal said from the doorway, keeping his face carefully controlled.

"It's quite odd. I don't recall seeing you around here before."

"And strangers don't come to Storybrooke. I know." Neal said, finishing the thought before letting his annoyance at the situation show through. "That still doesn't answer what the hell you're doing in my room."

"I don't take kindly to being stolen from. Mr. Cassidy."

Gold dug the end of his cane into the large rug and stared at Neal. Although everything about the old man's stance was conversational, Neal could practically taste the threat dripping from every word.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Neal said, playing off the truth. Last night, after his little talk with the prince, he had gone directly to Gold's and stolen the axes. Considering he had just broken out of jail and was actually trying to avoid Gold at all cost, it probably wasn't the best course of action.

It didn't matter, though. They needed the axes to get Emma home and Henry needed his mother…and so didn't Neal. He needed her to at least hear him, even if she never forgave him.

"Don't play games with me. Many find it's bad for their health."

Neal eyes narrowed and he dropped all pretenses. He was tired of it, of all the pretending, all the hope. The man in front of him was no more his father then he had been on the day Neal had left. Just because there was no magic spilling out of skin, didn't mean he wasn't as rotten inside as he had been from these moment he plunged the dagger into that beggars chest.

"If you had any proof I have a feeling I would be behind bars."

"The rules are different here now, dearie," Gold said taking a step closer to Neal, "and I prefer to deal with my own affairs. Just because you disabled the cameras, doesn't mean I don't have proof. You would be surprised what one can do with a little magic."

Neal gave a dry little laugh and looked Gold right in the eyes. "No, really I wouldn't. But that still doesn't tell me what you're doing here."

"Isn't it obvious? I want my property back."

"Nothing in that shop is really yours," Neal said, his voice monotone as he bit his tongue to keep from saying the rest of it. _Nothing is yours. All you've ever done is take from others and turned it all to ash. The Dark One is nothing but a parasite, hollowing out his father's life and wearing his face. _

"I beg to differ," Rumplestiltskin said, with a shark like smile. There was a beat of silence as he looked around the room as if taking measure of Neal's life. As if the lack of personal possessions in the rented space somehow spoke to Neal's unimportance in the old man's life. "I'm in a forgiving mood today, so I'll make you a deal: you return my property and it will be like none of this ever happened."

Neal stared at Rumplestiltskin for a moment before answering, even though he made his choice long before the imp gave him the opportunity.

"No deal."

"Pardon?" Gold asked and Neal got the feeling that the old man was genuinely surprised. It wouldn't be that much of a stretch to figure many in this town would be thankful for the chance not to be on the old bastard's bad side. Too bad Neal wasn't one of them.

"You're not getting those axes back." He couldn't give them back even if he wanted to (which he didn't). the first thing he had done after leaving Gold's shop was drop them off at the mines where they belonged.

"I don't think you understand just who you're dealing with." Neal had to fight the flinch that came bubbling to the surface as Rumplestiltskin started doing Impish hand gesture that always creeped Neal out—the one he hadn't done before getting the Dark One's powers.

"I'm not afraid of you," Neal's voice was steady and strong but that was just another in a long line of cons he had pulled in his life. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince with that lie: Gold or himself.

It didn't really matter. Nothing could stop the fact that beneath all his bravado, Neal was a terrified of the man before him as a small child confronting the boogieman under the bed. Actually, there wasn't all the much difference between the two.

This was the man who had haunted his life for the last eighteen years. This was his own personal demon—his own personal nightmare made flesh (or was it more like flesh made nightmare?).

Call it a moment of temporary insanity or call it a flashback, either way the result was the same.

As Gold stood there inches from Neal's face, threatening him—challenging him—all Neal could see were memories of the weeks of hell before he escaped and the decades of nightmares afterword's. The people Rumplestiltskin had killed and justified it by saying it was all for him. The nightly visions of him killing Moraine in various different ways—visions that later warped into Emma and, more recently, Henry as his victims.

And so he did the only thing he could think of; the one thing he could never bring himself to do in his dreams. He fought back.

If there was one thing his brief stint as the odd kid in an inner-city high school had taught him, it was that if you get a cheap shot, take it. If you don't get the other guy down fast you might not get another chance.

With a blind rage that seemed out of character even to him, he kicked out, his foot coming into contact with Rumplestiltskin's bad knee.

But the old man was not helpless. Not now. Not in this odd little corner of the world. Before he crumpled to the ground, he flicked his wrist, sending Neal speeding backwards as if he had just been hit by a car going forty that hadn't even tried to break.

His vision swam as the left side of his head bashed against the hard metal of the light fixture, the decorative detailing digging into flesh above his eye.

The con ignored the stars and blood hampering his vision and reached out, grabbing the nearest object and swinging out with all his might. There was a sickening—yet oddly satisfying—crunch as the large golden cane handle made contact with the imp's temple.

Before he even had a chance to register what was going on, his throat constricted and he was pushed against the wall, feet left dangling a good six inches above the floor.

Neal didn't struggle and didn't beg. He just stared defiantly at the imp with a burning hatred he had never believed possible in his own soul. A sick, twisted, part of him found pleasure in the thought of Gold finding out the truth only after Neal was cold and dead by the imp's own hand.

How fitting would it be for this monster in his father's face to have the nightmares for once? And he would only have himself to blame.

"Rumplestiltskin!" A soft voice shouted from behind him and, for the first time, Neal realized that he had left the door open to the world.

Belle in the hallway, next to Red. Neal didn't' know it now, but as he would later find out, she had been visiting her friend when they had come to check out the commotion.

Gold's hand relaxed and Neal crumpled down the wall. The girls horrified eyes never left Gold as Neal struggled to catch his breath.

After a few seconds, he got to his feet and headed towards the door, both physically and emotionally exhausted and prayed that the sickeningly slimy numbness would eventually leave him. But he doubted it. There was nothing left of his father in that monster.

He stopped at the doorframe, ignoring the two girls watching the exchange. He did not turn to face Gold, not trusting his ability to keep his own pain off his face.

"I know exactly what you are, Rumplestiltskin," he said, hoping that any who noticed the quiver in his voice just attributed it to his recent battle with strangulation, "you're noting but a sad, lonely old man."

He paused and closed his eyes, gathering strength. As terrified as he was of the man, it was still something that he desperately needed to say.

"But more than that, you're pathetic."


	6. Implications

I'm going ahead and posting this in hopes that this humble offering will cause the gods of English to smile upon me and help me get the internship at the university publishing house I'm interviewing for this afternoon. It's really highly rated so it could definitely help me later. *crosses fingers, throws salt, closes eyes around black cat and various other superstition-y things.* Wish me luck.

On another note, I was really surprised at the feedback for last chapter. I was half fearing a barrage of "No! Why are you torturing my babies, you evil, evil lady!" But you guys were much kinder.

This was supposed to be the second part of the last chapter, but both scenes grew a life of their own. And honestly, I can so see these two in a bromance…once all that crap with Emma settled down.

Enjoy dearies!

* * *

Neal walked down the street as if on autopilot, his heart somehow filled with both a cold numbness and an overwhelming fire after his and his father's altercation.

Was it wrong of him to with that maybe—just maybe—there had been a chance that he could get his papa back as well? That maybe after all the years of bad luck, the stars would align to give him this one shot at happiness? It was beginning to look that way.

Even if he somehow managed to get Emma to hear him out, to forgive him, and they got back together, they were going to have to stay here in his own personal hell. Neal wasn't going to ask Emma to give up on the family she had always wanted just so he could run from his demons.

But still. It had hurt him more then he cared to say to see just how far his father had fallen—how little hope there was.

A car pulled up beside him, the slow sound of gravel crunching brought Neal out of his thoughts. He turned and saw David in the cruiser.

Of course. As if his day hadn't already been bad enough.

"Get in."

Neal snorted. He may have done some dumb shit in his life, but he wasn't that stupid.

"The front," David said, guessing his thoughts.

Part of Neal wanted to tell him to go shove it, that he didn't have the patients or energy for another pissing contest with him, but another, smarter part of him recognized the fact that the other man had a car and that Neal didn't exactly know where the hospital was.

"The oddest thing happened today," David said casually as if commenting on the weather, "When the dwarves went down into the mines, there axes were waiting for them."

"Hun." Neal said, not really in the mood to play this game. In a town this small, David had probably already heard at least some version of what happened. Not that he knew enough to understand. The fight had never been about the axes…at least not to him.

"Gold's not someone you want as an enemy."

Neal looked over, slightly surprised. Wasn't David supposed to be some brave prince? And yet here he was warning Neal to back off…or at least that's what it seemed like at first. But as Neal thought it over, he realized that it wasn't a warning; it was a statement.

"Emma needs to come home." Neal said, staring at the Sherriff. "I knew what I was getting into."

David looked over at Neal, studying him like he was something under a microscope and Neal had to fight the urge to remind him to watch the road. The last thing he needed was another fight.

"For a stranger you sure do know a lot about this place."

Neal's eyes widened slightly as David watched him out of the corner of his eye. This headache wasn't helping him keep his cool; he was slipping, telling a bit too much. Or maybe David was just sharper then Neal had originally given him credit for…after all, Emma had to have gotten her bullshit detector from somewhere.

"'Don't mess with Gold' is one of the first things you hear in this place. Doesn't make what I did any less necessary."

Maybe the remark was enough explanation for David. Maybe it wasn't. Either way, David didn't press the issue and for that Neal was thankful.

No one spoke again until Neal realized that they had passed the sheriff's office.

"So you're not taking me back to jail?" Neal asked, genuinely surprised. After yesterday he was sure he could add David to the ever-growing list of people he needed to avoid.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. That looks like it might need some stitches." It didn't escape Neal's notice that Charming hadn't, in fact, answered him. But he'll deal with that later.

Neal pulled his sleeve from where he had it pressed against his forehead and looked at the amount of blood that had seeped into the fabric.

"Probably," he deadpanned and the corners of David's lips twitched.

"Besides, I've decided that I'm leaving that up to Emma. She's going to be your judge and jury."

"And executioner?" Neal said, finishing the other man's sentence.

David smiled that shark-like smile and Neal knew he had called it. "If that's what she wants."

"Fair enough."

He could feel David's eyes bearing down on him, measuring him, but he didn't flinch. He was still too emotionally numb to deal with Emma's overprotective father right now.

"You know, I can't get a read on you."

Neal snorted. Of course he couldn't. All David knew was whatever Emma had told him, and Neal doubted that it fit well with him stealing the axes, especially if it meant making an enemy out of Gold. If only David knew…

"You don't know me," Neal muttered.

"Fair enough," David said, mirroring Neal's earlier words.

There was a beat of silence before David switched subjects.

"I started asking around about that bean you gave Henry."

Neal closed his eyes and waited for his next words. That could only lead to trouble. He knew the rumors hadn't gotten back to Gold but if David kept asking, then it was only a matter of time.

"Almost instantly mother superior told me not to ask anyone else—that those questions would only lead to more trouble then we need right now." David posed it as a statement but Neal could hear the question behind it. He was asking for a story Neal wasn't going to tell. Not here. Not now. Not to him.

Neal stayed silent and let the pause answer for him.

"You're from there, aren't you? The Enchanted Forest?" David sounded like he already suspected the answer but the thought still surprised him.

Neal just looked at him, through the wad of fabric pressed against his face. What part of 'Emma gets the story first' did this man not understand?

"Does Emma know?"

"Would she have believed me, even if it was something I wanted to talk about?" He left the question open ended and hoped he would get the hint and drop the subject.

David turned his head back to the road but apparently hadn't tasted enough of the preverbal blood to completely let the subject go.

"It's kind of funny," he kept his tone conversational but Neal could hear the accusation behind his words "that of all the people for her to wind up with, she had find one of the only other people from our real in the outside world."

Neal's blood froze at the implications. Everyone knew that true love wasn't the kind of thing that could be just fabricated or even channeled…but then again, magic wasn't supposed to be here either and yet it was. The Dark One did that. Could he have somehow…

Neal couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. Even the implication made every good thing in his life feel sullied and fake. And yet it was all so real…Emma…Henry…

The car stopped in front of the hospital, bringing Neal out of his thoughts. He turned to look at David and what he said was originally just to get Nolan off his back—to keep him from thinking there was some great conspiracy going on rather than the genuine thing—but as he spoke he knew the words were some of the truest he had ever spoken.

"Actually, I'd like to think it was the one unscripted thing about this whole fucking mess."

The door slammed behind him and Neal started toward the entrance to the ER.

"Neal," David said, causing Neal to turn back to look at him.

"Stay away from Henry." It wasn't a request; it was a command. Too bad for Nolan, Neal had something of a problem with authority…especially authority that was trying to keep him from his kid.

Neal walked back to the curser and stuck his head through the window, not caring that he was getting blood all over the enterer.

"No, I won't," he said, looking David in the eye, challenging him to do something. "But I won't tell him either—not till Emma gets back."

David eyed him but said nothing before roiling away, leaving Neal standing there wondering just how much he should be worried about the prince on top of all his other problems.


	7. Struck

Here it is guys, the big reveal of who finds out. I guess I kind of suck at leaving clues but congrats to the one person who did get it right (Vinny and Nex). This is a dynamic I really hope they don't just gloss over in the show and had a lot of fun writing.

Also, I'm working on a SwanThief playlist. Once 8track is back up I'll put a link in my profile. Let me know what you think.

* * *

"Hello?" he said, opening the door to the library but nobody answered. A part of him was kind of glad; he wasn't really in the mood to talk right now. He just wanted to get his books and get out.

Neal had never been much of a reader. Although his father had made sure he could both read and write (not the most common skill set where he came from) it hadn't really helped him all that much here. There had been too much for him to learn here to survive on books alone. To keep himself out of the nut house, only the TV had helped, giving him enough information about the new world to keep the adults off his back.

And really, it didn't help that so much literature here had magic and myth.

The first book someone had given him in this world was a book of stories. The matron of the group home said the classics were meant to give people hope, but Neal could see the truth. She only saw him as broken and wanted to keep his implosion from happening until he was well out of her hair.

He had taken it and read. Despite the all the magic and all the reminders of a home he could never go back to, he had enjoyed the tales…until he came across one about the miller's daughter and the imp who helped her.

Part of him wanted to deny what kind of man his father had become, but he just couldn't do it. Deep down, he knew that somehow, the story wrung true. He had thrown the book so hard, it had shattered the window.

From then until the moment he ran away again—this time to make his way in the world alone—he hadn't said more than a handful of words.

Now he found himself standing in the occult section in the library of a semi-cursed town full of fairytales including his father…all for Emma.

His eyes skimmed the spines, looking for something promising. Neal knew this could be a gigantic waste of time, but if any library in the world had a chance of carrying the real thing, it would be Storybrooke.

"Baelfire?" a soft voice says from behind him and he couldn't help the flinch of his hand as he stood there, arm raised to get a book off the shelve.

All the turmoil of the last few days must have been really missing with him—normally he would have noticed the girl approach, but he had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to pay much attention. And that didn't make the surprise of hearing _that _name any less.

It was odd just how conflicted that one word made him. it was like both home and hell, even if it was his name.

"Who?" he said turning to face Belle.

The corners of her mouth twitch a little. "I never said it was a who."

Neal's mind exploded in curses. Of all the shit to happen to him today, this very well could be the worst. He couldn't even think to cover his tracks—to come up with something to convince this woman that she was wrong. All he could do was tip his head back and watch as his world did what it did best: collapsed around him like a sandcastle in a hurricane.

He was shocked silent for a moment as the woman studied his face. "I could see it."

Neal had to fight to keep from flinching again. She hadn't meant it as an insult so it would be unfair of him to take it as one…but he had spent far too long trying to be everything Rumplestiltskin wasn't. Brave. Good. Kind. And even if he didn't always succeed at it, he had tried… and that counted, right?

"What gave me away?" he muttered, almost afraid of the answer. If it was something a complete stranger could notice, what was the chance that the Imp had missed it? Not that it really mattered all that much anyways. After today he would know, if he didn't already.

"I saw your face after the fight."

Neal took a deep breath and rested his head the books. Of all the things…wasn't he supposed to have a better poker face then that.

"Why haven't you said anything?" She asked and Neal could tell she was honestly upset at the idea. Like she thought his top priority would be patching things up with someone who no longer existed.

"I'm not going to if I can help it." He said, walking over and sitting on the edge of one of the many study tables that filled the larger spaces between shelves.

"Isn't that why you're here?" she asked, the confusion evident in her voice. He didn't blame her really. As far as she knew, the old man was the only connection Neal had to Storybrooke—the only reason he had to come here. But, as always, the truth was so much more complicated than that.

"No. I'm here for a completely different reason. If I had my way, I'd be a million miles from anywhere he is." There was a kind of release in this level of honesty—a level he hadn't been able to have with anyone in a very long time, a level he hadn't even had with Emma.

Too many people in his life wouldn't have believed the truth, so he never spoke of it, even during the few moments he really needed to. August was the only one who knew, and honestly, though they were kind of friends, Neal wouldn't really trust August enough to confide in him like that.

It was all too personal—too private—and the puppet liked pulling strings a bit too much.

Belle came over and sat beside him on the edge of the table.

"But he loves you. He's been looking for a way to get to you for years." There was no judgment in her voice, just a deep desire to understand.

Neal couldn't help but be thankful for that. The last thing he needed right now was this strangers accusations just because he wasn't here for a tear soaked reunion…at least with the old man.

"The Curse?" Neal asked. He had suspected that from the moment August had first told him about the curse, but he had never been completely sure. A part of him had always held onto that small thread of hope that he had been jumping at shadows—that the Dark One hadn't done this—but as he looked at Belle, he knew that one thread was about to be severed.

She nodded and that was all he needed for the blinding hate from earlier to come bubbling to the surface again.

"And that's supposed to make everything alright? Am I just supposed to ignore the destruction? All the lives ripped apart by his curse? All the families?"

Including his. His one shot of happiness had been destroyed just as surely as everyone else's. Emma hated him. Henry didn't know him. And he had spent eleven years alone in purgatory after knowing heaven.

He didn't mention any of this though and he didn't have to because Neal wasn't the only empathetic one in the room.

Neal could tell that she was disturbed—that she had thought of that same thing at least once since the curse broke. Good. He needed that. He needed to know that he wasn't being selfish and ungrateful. Was it wrong of him to hate the fact that his father had done so much for him if every action was evil?

"He's not a perfect man," she muttered and Neal had to suppress a snort. That's all she could say? That's supposed to justify it all?

And honestly, who was the justification for? Was she just trying to patch things up between Neal and the Imp? Or was these the same things she had told herself over and over again to calm her own conscious?

He hoped it wasn't the latter. Belle seemed like a good girl and his father had corrupted enough pure things…in both worlds.

"I never expected him to be," he said and it was true. Even before, when his father had just been the town coward, Neal had accepted that and loved him despite it. Had he wish his father was better? That his father would stop letting his fears define him? Of course. That's what made that one moment of courage at the duke's castle—the one moment when his father had truly been everything he could be and not defined by his fear or his power—all the more etched in his memory.

It had given him a single taste of what it all could be just before it all got sent to hell…not unlike his trip with Emma.

"I just don't want him to be a monster," he muttered.

Belle rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He is trying to be better."

Neal shrugged her hand off and stood up, looking at her as if she were the one crazy. How long can she go on defending him? Especially after what happened this morning?

"Is he?" he said, looking at her as if _she _were the one with their morals in question, his voice more a hiss then he intended. "Or is he just trying to make sure you don't see it?"

Belle looked down and Neal could tell he had hit a nerve again and so Neal latched on like a terrier with a bone.

"He would have killed me back there."

"He didn't know." Even Belle sounded like she was partially disgusted with herself for making excuses for him. She had thought about it all before, he knew this and a part of him was disgusted at her for it, and yet…

What if it had been Emma that went bat shit crazy? Would he feel any different about her? Would he have ignored the postcard, unable to watch her that way? That was a more difficult thing to judge.

But it didn't make today's truth any less harsh and any less true.

"Why should it make a difference if I'm his son or just some stranger off the street? He shouldn't do that shit."

He shouldn't curse people for his mistakes. He shouldn't turn them into squish-able snails for some minor transgression. He shouldn't leave his kid alone to a strange world just because he didn't have the balls to live without power. He shouldn't have brought magic to Neal's sanctuary. He shouldn't have involved Emma in this. He shouldn't have ripped her away from a family that loves her…from parents that seem like they actually deserve her.

Neal could go on…

Belle took a deep breath before steeling herself, gaining confidence, and Neal could tell that no matter what she thought of everything else he had said, she believed her next words with everything she was.

"I know that, but when you love someone you don't just love them for their strengths. I've been trying to get him to change, to stop using magic, but he won't. He sees magic as the only way to find you."

Great. Another thing to rest at Neal's feet.

"Maybe he needs both of us to reminded him of his humanity."

That sent Neal off and, later, he would feel bad for yelling at her, but it was all too much—had been building and stewing all too long—and the words all to cathartic for him to stop them if he tried.

"Why should we be the voice in his ear reminding him that it's wrong to kill people just because he feels like it? How is that fair to us?"

She looked him dead in the eye and said as if it were some irrefutable truth, "It's not. But he still needs us and if you love someone you have to be there for them."

Neal sighed. Torn between the boy he was and the man he is. Between everything he wanted to be and what he had to be. Between reality and what the boy inside him had always prayed for.

But he wasn't a boy anymore and there was more at stake than just having his papa back. He couldn't afford to be caught up in her delusions…as much as he may want to be.

"If he really were still my papa, I'd tell him, but I have too many treasures in my life now to let the dark one in. And I can't really tell the difference between them." It killed him to say it, to admit the desires that lay buried beneath all that anger, but that didn't stop the next truth from coming out in nothing but a painful whisper. "I'm sorry."

She sighed and Neal knew it was time to go back to his room at Grannies. He hadn't really slept in a long time and today had been exhausting. As horrifying as his dreams may be, his bed was looking more and more welcoming by the moment.

"I know asking you this puts you in a bad position," he said, "but can you not tell him? I'm…I'm just not ready."

He felt bad for asking, really he did, but he couldn't help it. Maybe he would be ready for that after all this crap with Emma settled. Or maybe he would never be ready. Either way, he wasn't ready now and he prayed she could see that.

She considered silently for a moment and for a blinding second, Neal was afraid she would refuse. That she would chose his father over him. He wouldn't have blamed her though…

"Aright," she said and Neal's heart soared in relief, I'll make you a deal."

He raised an eyebrow, remembering his track record for regretting the deals he had made.

"I won't tell him," she said, her voice picking up force, "but you can't fight with him again. What happened earlier will hurt him enough when he finds out…he doesn't need any more to feel guilty about."

Neal nods. It might not be easy, but it was a fair enough price.

"Alright," he said, sticking out his hand. She took it and gave it a firm shake.

Neal couldn't help the darkly ironic little smile that tugged at his lips.

"And the deal is struck," he said, praying that this time the deal doesn't leave him with a lifetime of nightmare fuel.


	8. Dealing in hypotheticals

Here it is, the moment you have all been waiting for…Emma's back. Oh god. This one hurt my feels just writing it. Also, just to let you know, the link to the playlist is now up and ready for action. I couldn't figure out how to activate the link so just copy and paste.

A lot of you have mentioned wanting to see Snow go all mamma bear on Neal's ass. I racked my brain for a way to make it work but it's probably not going to happen. I think Snow realizes just how complicated love is and that there probably is more to the situation than Emma knows or was letting on. The fact that Neal was in Stroybrooke would be the first give away that he is connected to all this and he came back…which is something most people wouldn't do if they had really set someone up.

Just saying. They'll be some interaction between the two. Actually I have a thanksgiving themed chapter planed that's after Neal and Gold's big reunion so yeah…

OH MY GOD! OVER 100 REVIEWS! You guys rock. So to celebrate here's a little gift. It's a headcannon that may or may not make it into the story.

Emma and Neal's second child doesn't call Neal Dad or Papa. She calls him Baebae. Why? That's what Rumple and Belle's kid(s) call him and she doesn't understand the difference. Neal has stopped trying to correct her and he doesn't really mind. it's one of the few times he has anything to do with his old moniker.

* * *

It took a moment for Neal to realize that the pounding sound was not, in fact, that sound of his blood pumping into his ears. It was a louder, harsher sound with a fucked up cadence; it was the sound every thief knew: the commanding knock of a police officer.

He groaned as he got up from the bed and reached over to grab his pants. Apparently being dead tired with a head wound and a bad case of nightmares was about as much fun as the morning after a fifth of tequila.

Everything in him wanted to tell Nolan to go fuck himself—he wasn't in the mood for games. Two hours of sleep in as many days were not enough with the overprotective father of the love of his life who was trying to make up for lost time in the harassing ex-boyfriends department.

"Damn it Cassidy, open the fucking door!"

Neal stilled for a split second as the voice registered in his mind. How long had he been since he heard it?

The sound was as sobering as a cold shower, a pot of strong black coffee and a full night's rest all rolled into one. Neal partially ran to the door, tripping as he tried to walk into his pants.

"Emma." He said, unable to keep the wondrous tone out of his voice as he opened the door. Despite all hell that was about to come, he was looking forward to seeing her. He had waited eleven years for this.

And she hadn't changed. Not really. Sure she wore her hair differently and had a fondness for leather over dresses, but in that one moment he could pretend that the last eleven years—and all the heartbreak that came with them—had been nothing but another of his nightmares. That they were still kids sneaking into hotel rooms to shower and dream of a future destiny wouldn't allow.

"Why are you here?" she hissed and there was no mistaking the fury in her voice.

"For you."

He had rehearsed this conversation so many times in his mind with a million different outcomes. Best case scenario, it would be like nothing ever happened. She would hear his side of the story and understand (unlikely, yes, but a guy can dream, right?). Worst case—

"God damn it," he hissed in pain, doubling over. Neal hadn't been surprised that she would swing at him, but to take such a cheap shot… "Did you have to go for the stitches?"

She ignored him and pushed her way into the room.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here."

"You're the one standing in my bedroom." Neal said, falling back into that lighthearted teasing that had defined them before. All it took was one look at her face to know that perhaps that wasn't the wisest choice.

"Answer me on thing before I haul your ass over the line and personally hand your ass over to the feds," she spat, the tone turning each word into a razor cutting into his already sore and broken heart. As much as loved seeing her again, it was hell. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she hated him as much as he loved her.

"Did you or did you not sell me out."

Neal closed his eyes. He had long ago promised himself that he wouldn't lie to her…especially about this… but he hadn't expected the truth to be so hard. The words caught in his throat and he had to fight to force them out. She deserved that at least.

"Yeah, I did but—."

She stepped forward, ready to hit him again and, thought Neal didn't blame her for that, he stepped back. He had to get her to listen before she stared beating him up or he may never get a chance to tell his side of this whole fucked up story.

"But there's more to it than that."

She narrowed her eyes but dropped her hand. As she crossed her arms, Neal caught a glint of silver at her neck. The keychain. She kept it. Could that (and the car) mean that there was a chance? The he wasn't wasting his time? That he wasn't just reshattering his heart for nothing?

"You have two minutes."

"I was on my way to meet the fence but I was being followed. At first I thought it was a cop but" he sighed and began pacing. This was where it got complicated. This was where it got unbelievable.

"It was August."

Her eyes widened and she blinked in surprise. Whatever she had expected, that sure as hell wasn't it. But how could she have expected it? He had never mentioned _that _world so how could she have connected him to it in even the smallest way? Besides, it wasn't like August would have told her. That man may be a lot of thing, but honest wasn't exactly one of them.

"August? As in typewriter carrying, annoying—"

"As in Pinocchio. Yes."

That caught her attention. Her eyes narrowed, suspicious.

"You're down to a minute and a half," she reminded him, leaning against the wall.

"He told me about the cures—about your destiny…"

All the times he had practiced it in his head it hadn't sounded so stupid. It hadn't sounded so flimsy.

"And so you turned me in…so I could fulfill my destiny." There was an incredulousness underneath her even tone that told Neal he was in trouble.

"Would you have been strong enough for all this otherwise? That life wasn't good for you." his reasoning sounded weak even to his ears that he wished he could take it all back, even before the words had finished leaving his lips. The words were August's—and he supposed possibly Rue's too—and they were the same ones he kept repeating to himself over and over. The same things he kept telling himself every time he thought of Emma over the last eleven years.

When august told him, about his father and about the curse, he instinctually knew they were true—that he was, again, paying the price for magic he never wanted nor asked for—but had still needed those flimsy reasons to convince himself. He knew he wasn't convincing her with the same logic; she was still all so new to the hazards of this world.

Emma looked as if her rage was going to boil over so he switched tactics fast.

"Without breaking the curse you would never have been with your parents and I know how much you wanted that." it was a reason that was his alone—one that he hadn't come from August's mouth. One that had given more weight to his earthshattering decision then anything the puppet had said.

"I wanted to be with you!" She shouted, her voice cracking.

Neal forced himself to keep looking at her. Despite the fact that she wasn't the only one hurting—that his pain mirrored hers, she deserved that much. She had been the victim here because, as little of a choice as Neal really had, he could have just said no. He could have told everyone else to go fuck themselves and lived happily ever after with Emma.

But that wasn't the right thing. It was just the coward's way out.

"I looked for you for two years in Tallahassee," she screamed, probably showing more of her emotions then she wished, "hoping that somehow it had all just been a big misunderstanding—that someone else had made that call ant that you would meet me there. But you were nowhere to be found."

The lost look on her face knocked all the air out of his lounges. It was one thing to know what he did would hurt her, but to see it plastered across her face now…

"You never loved me. You used me—"

"No Emma," he whispered. He could handle her hating him—her thinking almost anything of him—but not that. Those few months had been the one real thing in his entire life. To say he never loved her would be as false as to say he never breathed.

Emma stepped back and closed her eyes before taking a deep breath—like she was trying really hard not to either hit him or walk out (or both).

"Let's pretend for a second that that's not the biggest load of crap I've ever heard," she said as if forcing out every word.

Neal was glad for this little concession. Dealing in hypotheticals had to be a good thing: it meant she was at least entertaining the idea that he wasn't lying to her.

"How could you just believe him?" she spat, looking at Neal the same way her father had the other day in the jail—like he was something disgusting and squashable.

"What?"

"Some stranger you've never met shows up and tells you that your girlfriend has some sort of special destiny and you just believe it? Of all the things I have ever thought of you, Neal, completely stupid was never one of them."

He paused. How to tell her? What could he say to make her understand that it wasn't stupid to believe what he had known since he was barely any older then Henry? How could he tell her that this was all just another layer to a string of nightmares that never seemed to go away?

"Emma…" he said, unsure.

"You know what," she says, cutting him off, "it doesn't matter. You still left…and you didn't just leave me, you left Henry."

That was a low blow and she knew it…but it wasn't any less true; it wasn't any less crushing.

"I didn't know." He whispered, like it gave him any absolution.

"I gave up my son because of you," she hissed, seeing just how lethal a chink she had found in his armor and going for the kill shot "I had to sit there listening to a bunch of councilors—people who didn't even try to understand how much I wanted him—tell me how impossible it was for a teenaged delinquent with abandonment issues to take care of a kid. I had to listen as they told me that there was no way I would be his best chance… and the worst part was, I knew they were right. I was alone and hurting and you were god knows where doing god knows what."

Neal stared at her, shattered. Knowing these things were one thing but hearing them from her lips was another. Was it wrong of him to want to say that he had only did the best he could have with the situation he was given? Was it wrong of him to think that meant anything? Probably. Things still wound up fucked up.

Her eyes are wet as she stared at him.

"Fuck you, Cassidy," she said, her voice about as raw as his heart felt. With a violent tug and a soft ping she ripped off her necklace and threw it at him, the swan token landing face up on the ground at his feet. "And stay the hell away from MY son."

The door slammed behind her as she left and Neal stood there his mind reeling.

All he had ever tried to do was do right by her, and it seemed that the more he tried, the more he just wound up making everything worse. Even before they had met, he fucked up her life. After all wasn't it his fault that the curse existed in the first place? Wasn't it his fault she had been ripped from her family to begin with?

Maybe he was cursed to bring curses to others. A curse bringer. Maybe the best thing for everyone would be for him to just go back to his life… but then what life did he have to go back to? a life of waiting? But every moment for the last eleven years had been leading up to this one moment.

And Henry…

Neal didn't have the strength to leave again. Even if it was the best thing. Even if staying was the cowardly thing. or was it going that was cowardly? Running away from this fight?

He didn't know the answer any more. Maybe there had never been an answer.

Neal bent down to pick up the necklace, his thumb running over the design like a child with a worry stone. He kept telling himself that she had kept it—that maybe there was a chance after all.

"Is it true?"

Neal could hear Emma's accusation from the hallway and could only guess the rest as the opened the door. August stood there outside his door, keys in hand.

"Is what—" the puppet asked, confused at first as to what the princess was asking. He looked over and saw Neal standing in his doorway. Neal gave him a little nod—answering the unspoken question and August sighed, knowing what it was all about.

"Yeah."

Neal would be lying if he said he didn't get a certain degree of satisfaction from watching Emma hit August, but he wasn't sure August deserved it.

"Damn it Emma!" August said, dropping his keys as his hands went to his nose.

"I am sick of it! My entire life has been about this fucking curse—"

Neal couldn't tell if she was raging at August, him, or the entire situation. Probably a good mix of all three, but her blind anger wasn't helping him fix anything. It wasn't giving him any signposts on the road to redemption.

"I did what I had to do," August said, his voice both forceful and unapologetically as he defended himself, "You think you are the only one who's entire life has been taken over by this? You, me, him," he said, waving his hand in Neal's direction and Neal had to fight the desire to smack him for dancing so close to a secret that wasn't his to tell. "It's affected us all and the only way we were really going to get to live is if you broke it.

"You needed to be strong for this and that life—the one you had with _him," _August motioned to Neal, "robbing stores and doing nothing with your life, it wasn't helping you. Do you really think you would have been able to do what you had to if you had been able to live some normal apple-pie life?"

"You had no right!"

"Look, Emma," August said, looking her strait in the eye, "I'm sorry it had to be you. I'm sorry you got dragged into all this, but that doesn't change the fact that it had to be you. That it always had to be you. I'm sorry that i had to do what I did, but I'm not sorry I did it. This curse messed up my life too. I never asked for this. I never asked for the responsibility of looking after you—a task I largely failed at," he admitted before lowering his voice, his words laced with the most honesty Neal had ever heard from him. "I just wanted to get home to my father."

For a second Neal thought she was going to hit him again but she just stared at them—both of them—with a look so full of disgust and loathing it made Neal's blood run cold.

"Stay away from Henry. Both of you." She spat, walking away, leaving Neal emotionally numb. Of all the worst case scenarios he had imagined, the situation had been a million times worse in practice.

August shuffled in place, obviously uncomfortable.

"Listen Neal, about the money…"

Neal's head snapped over, his mind finishing the thought.

"Damn it, Booth! I asked you to do two things; two! Be there for her and give her the cash. Did you do either of them?" He shouted, as angry as he could be in the wake of the pure emotional exhaustion Emma had left him in.

"The money would have only—"

"Don't try and justify this." Neal snapped, "Do you realize what you have done?"

August had the decency to look down. He really did feel bad, but that wasn't going to help Neal get Emma back. That wasn't going to help him see Henry without Emma turning this into some kind of tug-of-war battle.

"I'm not good at temptation—I told you that. Sending it to her in jail would have just gotten her into more trouble and it wasn't like I could just leave it sitting in the car. I tried to hold on to it for when she got out, but..."

Neal didn't care about the money, not really. As much as it would have helped her, they had lived without it so long it probably wouldn't have made much of a difference anyway. The real problem went so much deeper than money.

"You don't get it, do you? Now she thinks that's why I did it—that it was all about the money—and she's too fucking pissed to listen."

That's it. He was done. He was taped out. His emotions were too drained for him to really be pissed at August and yet he was still too pissed to fight.

Neal just turned and walked down the hall, not even bothering to throw on a pair of shoes or a shirt over his wife-beater. Right now he needed a friend and the one (sort of) friend he had in this crazy ass town wasn't the best company if he didn't want to give Emma an excuse to arrest him for murder.

So there was only one place to go…


	9. Chess Partners

Thanks so much for hanging in there during my slight slow-down. So homework's done. Brake's started. And the only homework I have to do over Thanksgiving is a two page paper on mind control in comics (Winter Soldier, of course). I will be showering plenty of love on you guys.

You guys enjoy.

P.S. to the guest reviewer who asked who Rue was, she's the blue fairy. Bae only knew her as Rue Gorum, so I kind of figure that's how he would refer to her.

Next chapter: Neal's conversation with a mother and the classic "what are your intentions towards my child" conversation takes on an interesting new twist...

* * *

"So Henry's your…" Bell began, and Neal could tell she was surprised. Perhaps she had thought he was lying when he told her earlier that reconnecting with Gold wasn't the reason for his pilgrimage here. Or perhaps she had just been hoping.

It was kind of pathetic that she was the only friend he had in this town, but that didn't change the fact that she was amazingly easy to confide in. a part of him whispered that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't the best person to be talking to…especially if he wanted a certain facet of his identity to stay under wraps. But then again, didn't she already know everything she needed to if she wanted to let that cat out of the bag? What was left for him to lose?

Neal looked down at the chessboard and considered his next move as he spoke. "Yeah. Now you understand why I hate all this so much. This curse…"

How much had this curse taken from him? A life with Emma. Henry's birth. His first words. His first steps. The right to be called 'papa.'

And the worst part was the fact that it was all supposed to be for him. Gold had ruined Neal's life and thought of it as a gift.

"Rumple's got a long way to go," she said, looking up from the board, "But that doesn't mean we should give up on him. Maybe if he knew—"

Neal just gave her a silent, harsh look and she got the message, her eyes returning to the board before she made her move.

"So how did you and Emma meet?"

Neal smiled. It was a welcome change of subject; something that he didn't mind talking about…that he didn't mind thinking about.

"She broke into a car and forgot to check the back seat," he chuckled. Neal hadn't been the one to get her into thievery—she had already walked far down that path—but he might have helped hone her skills. For all her talent she had forgotten the number one rule.

"She stole your car?"

"Well it wasn't really my car…" Belle looked a little confused so Neal explained a little further, not bothering to keep the sheepish tone out of his voice. "I had stolen it the day before."

"Oh."

Neal was glad for the lack of judgment in her voice. He wasn't ashamed of the life he led, but he still wanted Belle to like him. She was too big a part of his father's life and proof that, maybe just maybe, there was still something human deep within him. Or maybe Bell was just a naive child…not unlike Neal himself had been before news of the curse crashed what little bit of innocence had been left in his life.

"So that's why you took the axes," she said, "even though it meant bringing attention to yourself."

He nods.

"I just wanted to get her home," he looked up as he moved a piece, capturing her knight. Perhaps he was enjoying the atmosphere of honesty a bit too much—Belle was just too easy a person to talk to—or he probably would have never admitted the next truth.

"And I won't deny that I enjoyed the fight a bit."

It had been beyond cathartic to finally face his demons but that didn't mean he had exercised them.

Belle gave him this weird look—one he had never remembered directed at him—not unlike the harsh, warning looks he had seen TV moms give their teenagers. It was kind of surreal and yet not entirely unwelcomed.

"That's only going to hurt him later," she said, the scolding evident in her voice.

He shrugged. Really what else could he do? "We're going to have issues either way."

It may have been a harsh truth, but it was a truth none the less. Neal had given up on the impossible possibility of Gold never learning the truth. Too many people knew too much: David, Belle, Rue, August, and even Henry. Eventually someone was going to slip up and give the clever old bastard the one clue he needed to figure it all out—hell, it might even be Neal himself.

It was a matter of when not if but Neal couldn't help but pray that the big reveal could wait until after he got all this shit with Emma settled. He didn't think he could handle getting it from both sides at once.

Neal rubbed his hands over his upper arms, trying to warm them up.

"Are you cold?" Belle asked, noticing his actions.

"It's the middle of November in Maine and I'm walking around town half naked. Of course I'm cold," he said only slightly sarcastic, noticing that she has a heavy sweeter draped over her shoulders. She had to be cold too.

Her lips twitched into something of a smile. "The library's been shut up for so long and they haven't had a chance to get the heat working. I'll be right back."

She leaves and is back within moments holding the thick wool jacket to a man's suit and hands it to him.

"This should be about your size."

He looked at it and decided it was best not to ask what she was doing with the garment or how exactly it had come to her possession.

"It's his?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. "You don't have to take it."

Debated whether or borrowing something from _him_ was worth not freezing his ass off for a slit second before taking it.

As he pulled it on, he couldn't help but breath in the musky sent that sent his mind reeling into a time he had almost forgotten existed. A time when his papa was really his papa. A time when he would tuck Neal (or was it Bae? If that life was really so far that it seemed like the memories belonged to another person, shouldn't he refer to himself by his old name?) into bed and told him stories, complete with silly voices for all the characters. A time when he promised to keep the nightmares away rather than embodying them.

Instinctually he pulled the coat tighter across his chest, as if somehow he could wrap himself up In that memory just as easily as he could the cloth.

Belle noticed and he tried to play it off as if it was just because of the cold, but she wasn't fooled.

"What about you?" He asked in a rather transparent attempt to change the subject.

"What?" she asked.

"How did you two meet?"

She pressed her lips, clearly choosing her words carefully and Neal knew he probably wouldn't like the answer. That despite how well it seemed to turn out for them in the end, it was most likely the product of one of the Imp's many wrong-doings.

"Ogres were attacking my kingdom and I volunteered to go with him when he came to help."

Neal looked at her careful to hide his disbelief. You can't bullshit a bullshitter and he could see right through her feeble attempt at diplomacy.

"Volunteered or was that the price he asked?"

"I think he was lonely. I was supposed to be a house keeper," Neal's face tightened remembering what happened to the last one but he said nothing, "but he could have done that by magic. After I got to know him, that's when I fell in love."

Neal was silent for a moment, he knew Belle wasn't stupid and she wasn't completely naive, but the fact that she didn't see what was wrong with that picture was a little disturbing.

"They have a word for that here. They call it Stockholm." He was only half teasing her.

The bell wring and a little boy about Henry's age with dirty blond hair walked in. Gold followed close behind him but it was easy to see by their body language that they weren't there together.

The boy asked Belle for help finding a book and she got up and followed him.

"I'll look that up," she said just before disappearing into the other half of the library.

"You do that." Neal whispered. If it really was some form of Stockholm, she needed to know.

Gold came over to the table just as Neal got up to leave.

"Mr. Cassidy," he said, as both a greeting and a warning.

"Gold," Neal replied, his voice just as clipped. He wasn't going to let Gold know how much he frightened him. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of being the boogieman.

"That looks painful," Gold said, motioning to Neal's bandaged head with the handle of his cane. Neal shrugged, noticing that Gold's wound is gone. Probably due to magic.

"I've had worse."

"Let me give you a friendly bit of advice:" Gold said, his voice losing all pretext of civility, "stay away from Belle."

Neal snorts. "If she's not allowed to have friends outside of your permission, then she's little more than a possession."

Gold stared at him, measuring, but didn't reply. Was there really anything he could say?

Neal took two steps closer, closing the gap between them until their faces are mere inches from each other. It was kind of odd. In all of Neal's memories his papa had been bigger than him, something large and comforting, if not weak. Now he had a good two inches of height over the man, but that didn't help him stand his ground as much as Neal imagined it would.

In a lot of ways, he was still a scared little boy wanting his papa to protect him from all that went bump in the night. But now it was his papa that hid under the bed. Wasn't life a bitch?

"Now it's my turn to give you a friendly bit of advice," Neal hisses despite the little voice in the back of his mind reminding him of the terms of his and Belle's deal, "hold onto her. She's one of the best things to ever happen in your miserable life and she's more then you deserve. For some reason she actually loves you, so why don't you try to be better. Why don't you try and be better, that way you earn her love?"

Gold stares at him, silent, with a dangerous smile plastered across his face, and Neal had to wonder if he went too far. If they were destined to have another show-down right here in the middle of the library where Belle would be willing to spill all the secrets Neal was trying so hard to keep.

"Leaving so soon, Neal? Our game's not done," Belle said coming up behind them.

"Yes it is; you're in check," he said, his challenging eyes never leaving Gold's face. Belle glanced over at the board, trying to figure out just where the danger to her king lied. "And besides, it looks like your boyfriend wants to take you to lunch or something."

Gold's eyes narrowed and Neal couldn't help but wonder if it was out of a strange form of jealousy, as if the old man knew the truth in Neal's words. That he didn't deserve the woman and was frightened that she would see that, leaving him to his lonely, pathetic life, full of nothing but empty power.

"Well then, good luck with Emma. You seem to truly love her and I'm sure she'll understand once you get to tell her the rest of your story."

Gold didn't bother to hide his surprise and the corners of Neal's mouth twitched at the sight. The old man hardly seemed like the kind to be out of the loop, but he dropped the ball with this one. As far as he could tell, the connection between him and Emma was hardly a state secret around here.

Belle was saying this mostly for the old man's benefit, they all knew this, but Neal couldn't help but be grateful. She was giving him an opportunity to bow out gracefully before this came to blows of both fist and truth.

"Emma's never been good with emotional stuff, so honestly I'm surprised she let me say as much as I did," he said with a wistful little smile.

"But you love her and you're persistent. If you truly love someone you never stop trying to get back to them—you never stop trying to fix your mistakes. All you can do is keep trying and hope they'll forgive you."

Belle wasn't talking about him and Emma. At least not entirely. She was subtly asking him to do the one thing he couldn't. Tell Gold.

"Goodbye," he said, walking out the door.


	10. Parents

Sorry this took a bit longer then I intended. I didn't get to sleep on the five hour ride home like I expected and so I went to bed instead of writing. The shame! And this one didn't seem to want to be written…

Oh well. Enjoy and just so you know, next chapter is one of the things you all have been waiting for.

* * *

Neal looked out the window of his rented room, his knuckles white as he gripped the sill. How could a single place be both heaven and hell at the same time? Emma's here but she hates him. His son's here but has no clue who he is. His father is here looking like his papa but acting like the Dark One.

It was all too much. Neal knew something had to give soon or he would break into a million pieces, too small to be reassembled into anything resembling human (would that make him humpty-dumpty or did that particular story ready exist in this world?)

A knock sounded from the door and a part of Neal couldn't help but be excited thinking that maybe, just maybe, Emma was here to give him a chance to finish explaining, to tell her every truth he never wanted to say.

His hopes were dashed when he saw who was at the door. It was a dark haired woman in her late thirties or early forties, with a powerful, business like demeanor. But Neal had been in the same state enough times to recognize the deeper truth underneath. She had cracks along the edges, as if her world has recently shattered and she was struggling to hold it together.

"Mr. Cassidy?"

"Yeah, and you?" he said, careful to sound hostile.

"Regina Mills."

His eyes widened as he recognizing the name and he stepped aside, inviting her in.

"Henry's mom," he murmured and she seemed slightly surprised, as if most people had forgotten that fact since the curse broke. "Come in."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

It was odd, standing here talking to the woman—who was not Emma—who had raised his son for the last ten years. The woman who had been there for everything he wasn't. Or perhaps couldn't be. He was still wrestling with the true consequences of doing the 'right thing' so many years ago and he honestly doubted he would ever really forgive even if it was what had to be done for the bigger picture. Even if it was what he had to do to clean up his father's mess.

"I brought a fruit basket. I grew them myself."

She handed the peace offering to him and Neal couldn't help but be surprised at the contents. August had filled him in on just about everything and he had heard the stories.

"Apples?"

She looked down at the apples as the set the basket on the table.

"Perhaps that was a poor choice," she said, her voice strong, yet the cracks in her armor still showed. Or maybe Neal was just really good at seeing them.

"They're not poisoned," she reassured, but he hadn't been worried.

"I believe you," he said, grabbing one and taking a large bite. Juice trickled down his chin and he wiped it on the back of his sleeve. "Delicious. I must compliment your choice of fertilizer."

He wasn't even kidding. Those things were good and he had never been much of a fruit person.

She looked at him, surprised the he would even take it and his lips twitched. Right now Regina was one of the safest people in town to take an apple from. Everyone knew her fondness for the particular cures. If he suddenly started showing the same symptoms, the town's people would know exactly where to look and with how close he was to Henry…she gained nothing by risking it.

Besides, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him, his true love was in town. If by some small chance she did decide to poison him, maybe it would be the catalyst needed to reach out to Emma—to get her to give him another chance.

"I'm not trying to be rude," he said, setting the rest of the apple down on the bedside table and looking Regina strait in the eyes, "but I've had a long day and would really appreciate it if you could go ahead and get to the real reason you're here."

Regina ran her hands over her skirt, smoothing it out. "I want to know what your intentions are towards my son."

Her voice gained strength as she talked about Henry and Neal couldn't help but be glad. It was clear she cared about him and the kid deserved that. He deserved to be loved by as many people as possible. He deserved never to be alone.

"What do you mean?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, even though he already had an idea of what she meant.

"Let's not play games. I know that you are Henry's" she paused and swallowed, as if her next were logged in her throat, chocking her, "biological father."

Neal gave a harsh little laugh and ran his hands through his hair. "Does the whole town know?"

"Not Henry." Her words were measured and Neal couldn't tell if she took any pleasure in them. Either way, it didn't change the cutting truth.

Neal snorted, unable to keep the slightly bitter tone out of his voice.

"Miss Swan told me that you didn't know about him." Her voice had lost all hesitation and she was back to business—all back to that regal airs that she had probably learned as queen.

Neal could see through it all. She was ready to turn this into a pissing contest, but what Regina didn't know was that Neal wasn't a coward—that he would never allow himself to be one, even if this wasn't about his kid—and he sure as hell wasn't going to back down now.

He narrowed his eyes but kept his voice steady, careful not to sound like his was threatening her and yet making it clear that he wasn't playing. "She was right. If I had known things would have been different."

"Be that as it may," Regina said, walking over to the window. Neal knew enough about how to manipulate people to know what she was trying to do. "You're here now and I can't help but wonder why."

She was trying to get the upper hand, but Neal could play the game too.

"You seem like a smart woman. Seeing as how I didn't know about Henry, what other reason would I have to be here?"

"Miss Swan."

This conversation was skirting too close to a topic he didn't want to cover, so he changed the subject. This was none of her business and besides, enough people knew the truth about him and none of them were Emma. She should have been the first to know.

He was tired, he was getting cranky, and he figured it was time to cut through all the crap.

"So what you're really asking is if I'm going to turn this into a three way shit fest of a custody battle over Henry."

It was the only real reason she had to be here and by the way she looked at him, Neal knew he was right.

"If you want to put it that way, then yes, that's exactly what I'm asking."

Neal sighed. He wanted to be part of Henry's life more than anything, but not if that meant tearing his life apart at the seams in the process. Neal knew how it felt to be the caught up between a parent and their desires; he wasn't going to do that to the kid.

And just as much as he didn't want to do that to Henry, he didn't want to do that to Emma. He would never do something like that to her…not again. Neal knew he would walk away from this all before he even thought about trying to take the kid from her.

"I'm not going to do that," he said softly, "It wouldn't be fair to use him as the rope in a tug of war match between us three."

"I couldn't agree more."

Neal narrowed his eyes at his guest. He could hear the challenge in her voice, the unspoken 'then leave' and the last thing he wanted was for her to get the wrong impression about what his intentions really were.

"But now that I do know, I'm not leaving."

"I see." There was a slightly dejected tone in her voice and in that moment Neal could read her a lot better than she would have liked. For someone who was supposed to be so manipulative, she sure had a crappy poker face. She was worried that Neal was another person to compete for Henry's affections.

"Henry does love you."

Regina's face snapped towards him. Whatever she had been expecting to hear, this wasn't it.

"He said that?"

"He didn't have to," he said, thinking the fact should be obvious. When he saw her still confused look, he continued, "Look, all I know about you is what I've heard around town. The curse. The sleeping curses. The murders."

He paused and took a deep breath. According to August, this woman had tried to trap Emma in a fate worse than death and Henry had gotten caught in the middle. In fact, he had actually been pronounced dead in that hospital.

It was a difficult thing to get past, but he had to. Holding grudges never helped anything and besides, there was something about the entire situation that hit home to him in a way few others understood. He knew what it was like to be caught between a parent he loved and the magic that parent loved more. But there was one key difference between Henry's situation and his own.

"But one thing trumps all that—especially when it comes to the kid: you're trying."

Regina eyes widened and Neal figured that she wasn't exactly used to hearing this kind of thing. He was projecting his wishes onto the kid. If Gold tried to be a good person—even if the Dark One was still too much a part of him for Neal to truly get his papa back—it would make a world of difference.

And that was all that mattered.

"Henry's ten, he's too young to really understand this, but I think he will but that little bit of effort makes all the difference. You raised him—and he's a wonderful boy, so you must have done something right. Nothing will change that; no matter where he chooses to live or what happens next, your still his mother."

"You seem to know a lot about how this kind of thing," she said, the suspicion in her tone half hidden by the reappearing cracks in her armor. Even though she didn't know anything about Neal, he could tell his words meant a lot to her.

"Let's just say that I'm beginning to realize that Henry and I have more in common than I would have ever wanted for him."

"I see."

There was a flash of hope beneath her words—a flash that may be dangerous if not extinguished quickly. There would be no miscommunication here.

"Don't mistake me Miss Mills," he said getting her attention, "I'm not saying I'm backing out, or that Emma should do the same. All I'm saying is that I'm sure there's enough room in his life for all of us."

"He's my son." She whispered, in a defeated way that just didn't seem to mesh with the kind of woman she seemed to be.

"You're right. And, in a lot of ways," he choked on the next words, each one cutting into his heart with ever truth, "you might just be more his parent then either Emma or myself at the moment. Honestly, I don't know what I would do if the situation were reversed but that doesn't change the fact we are back in his life."

He sighed, his mind not wanting to consider what would that would have been like. What it would have felt like if he and Emma had made it to Tallahassee. If they had taken in a child and raised him as their own only to have…

But this wasn't about them. Not really.

"The best thing for Henry is for us—for all of us—to figure this out. The only way this will be fair to him is for us not to try and tear him apart."

Regina tried to hide it, but her cracks were deepening. Then again, they say you can't bullshit a bullshitter and Neal definitely fell into the latter category. He could see right through her and could see the hurt in her eyes.

"Maybe it would be best if you didn't see all this as us trying to take him from you. Maybe you don't have all his love any more, but he still has all yours… and mine and Emma's…even her parents are in on it. He has more now than a lot of people when it comes to these kinds of things, and that's the best we can give him."

She looked at him, in this odd combination of disbelief, gratitude, and relief before she spoke, "You're not what I expected, Mr. Cassidy."

"Should I take that as an insult or a compliment?" He asked, curious, as she reached the door.

"Take it however you wish."


	11. Truth

Neal looked in the mirror, ignoring the sound of the water running into the basin. He didn't want to go to bed—he didn't want to face those nightmares—but he didn't want to stay awake, either. The past days had been too exhausting, too draining, for him to not welcome the sweetness of oblivion.

This place was just too much. Being in this town was like being a starving man looking into the window of a banquet. Everything he could have ever wanted was laid out before him, but he couldn't touch it. All he could do was breath against the glass and hope someone noticed and invited him in.

There was a knock at the door and Neal ran a towel over his face and turned off the faucet. If he hadn't been so tired, he would have found it funny that for stranger in this town he sure was popular.

Of all the possibilities, the one person he hadn't expected to see at his door in the middle of the night was the just the person standing there. He was barefoot and in a pair of rain soaked pajamas, as if he had come here in a rush.

"Henry?" Neal breathed in confusion and shock. He was rather ashamed to admit it, but he had been avoiding the kid since Emma got back, even going as far as living off of convince store burritos and cold cans of ravioli just so he didn't have to risk running into him at Grannies.

Emma had made it clear that she didn't want Neal anywhere near the kid and, as much as it killed him to do so, he was trying his best to heed her wishes. Despite that, he didn't have the courage to face the kid with the truth—he just couldn't make Emma out to be that bad guy in this but he couldn't lie to Henry. Neal knew all too much how the lies could wound so much deeper than the truth, even if told from a place of love.

"Come in," Neal said stepping aside so Henry could get out of the cold.

For a second Neal couldn't tell if the kid had been crying or if it had just been raining on his face, but then he sniffled and rubbed his eyes on his soaked sleeve. Yep. He had been crying. And that revelation only brought up a slew of new questions.

The parental instincts Neal never imagined himself having kicked in and he grabbed the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around Henry's shoulders as he guided the kid to sit in front of the heater.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he asked, worried. After all what could have happened to send the kid running to him at this time of night.

"Is it true?" Henry whispered, shattered and Neal's heart went out to him.

"What?" Neal already knew the answer. Only one thing fit but he still had to play it off. Henry had to ask, had to say the words. Neal had promised Emma that he wouldn't tell and he kept his promises…at least as much as he could. He had to be sure he wasn't misreading the signs—wasn't just seeing what he wanted to.

"Are you my dad?" Henry asked, half afraid of the answer.

Neal sighed and nodded. As happy as he was to hear that word fall from Henry's lips, he knew this wasn't going to be easy. There was no way it could be, even with as understanding of a kid was Henry was, there was bound to be some bitterness. Neal didn't want Henry to hate him for what he did—things that had seemed right at the time. But more than that, he didn't want Henry to hate Emma for keeping this secret.

"Oh kid," he said kneeling down and brushing a stray bit of hair out of Henry's face. "I didn't know until I came to Storybrooke and met you."

It was half an apology and half an explanation, but even in its whole, the words weren't enough. They were no excuse.

"Why didn't you say anything?" The pain in the kid's voice cut at Neal's already war-torn heart. all he could do was shake his head slowly, wishing he could take the pain away, wishing that he could make the kid understand…but if his conversation with Emma had been any indication…

"I wanted to wait until Emma was back so I didn't sound like something out of a bad sci-fi movie. And I had no clue what Emma had told you."

Actually he did have a clue but he figured that none of it would be flattering…not that he hadn't earned her ire, but still, if all the kid had heard was bad things his best chance at having any kind of relationship might have been just as a grown up friend.

"She said that you were a fireman and that you died trying to save people."

Neal's eyebrows shot up. He was surprised that she made him out to be a hero and he couldn't help but wonder if it was out of an inner desire she had to think the best of him—as she said, she had waited to hear it was all a miscommunication—or if it had been more for the kid's benefit. Perhaps both?

"Is any of it true?" Henry said, seeing the look on his face. Neal swallowed, knowing that there was no way to keep the kid from hurting more. Truth or lie. Either would crush him, and so Neal went with the one that would heal the easiest.

"No kid, it's not."

The devastated look on Henry's face crushed Neal as well.

"Why would she lie?" he asked, clearly lost and aching.

Neal sighed and looked out the window, looking but not really seeing the rain soaked street below. How was he supposed to explain this?

"Because I hurt her." He said, looking over to the kid, begging him to understand, to be the one person on his side. It was big thing to ask of the kid, but Neal couldn't keep it out of his voice. He couldn't bring himself to try. "I never wanted to…but to do the right thing I had to. Emma only knows part of the story and that because of that she has reason to think I'm a bad guy."

"But you told her the truth, right?" Henry asked, like it was just that easy.

"I tried, but she was so mad she wouldn't listen to the whole story."

There was a pause as Henry digested this. "Then tell me."

Neal's head whipped around to look at the kid.

"What?"

"I want to hear the story," Henry said, pulling the covers tighter around his shoulders. "And don't lie."

Neal hesitated. He had wanted Emma to be the first to hear the story—he had promised himself that he would give her that much—but that promise had been made a long time ago. Now there were more things to consider and if anyone besides her had a right to hear it, it was Henry.

"Alright, but you have to promise me you won't tell Emma," he said, continuing when he saw Henry's confusion plastered all over his face. "I'm the one who hurt her, so I should be the one who explain."

Henry nodded, liking at him the same way Belle had—unjudgingly wanting just to hear; to understand.

Neal started with his job in Phoenix and the watches and then moved on to the car and beyond. He didn't lie or try and hide what they had done; he didn't gloss over any of the details. The convince stores and the hotel rooms. It was all fair game.

Henry just sat, listening as he continued his story. Once Neal got to the part about August, he had to remind himself that the puppet was the kid's friend and it would do no one any good to mess with that. If wasn't going to ask about the money, Neal wasn't going to mention it.

"And now she wants to know how I could just believe him," Neal said, finishing his tale.

"But you grew up in that world, of course you'd believe."

Neal sighed, his shoulders sagging "She didn't let me get to that part."

There was a single beat of silence as Henry pursed his lips, considering all he had been told.

"You need to tell her."

Neal laughed a little. Like he hadn't been trying since he got here. "I plan on it. As soon as she lets me."

Henry gave a big yawn and Neal knew that it was time to get the kid back to his mother. As much as Neal was dying to see Emma again, he was more than a little apprehensive to see her reaction at just how much the kid had been told.

"Alright kid, let's get you home."

"I don't want to go back just yet." Henry was still hurting over the lie and Neal would be lying if he said he wasn't excited at the possibility of spending time with the kid. Sure he hated the circumstances surrounding it, but that didn't change the fact that he had a lot of time to make up for.

Neal sighs, although it probably won't help him in the long run with Emma, but he couldn't' bring himself to say no. "Well then at least get to bed. Tomorrow is a school day."

Henry crawled into bed and pulled the cover tight around his chin.

"Can you light a candle?" he asked, trying hard not to sound like a scared little boy. Like it would make a difference to Neal either way. "Gramps says they're supposed to keep out bad dreams."

Neal lips twitch as he walked over the dresser to do as he was asked. "I'll keep that in mind."

Neal sat on the other side of the bed and leaned against the headboard. He wasn't going to sleep—chances were good that Emma would be here soon and he needed to be awake enough to keep her from breaking down the door. Almost absentmindedly he rubs a single knuckle up and down Henry's spine gently. It was the same thing his own father used to do to keep away the nightmares or calm a fever…at least during the good times.

Gods this was messed up. Everything he had ever tried to do in his life had failed misrabaly. He couldn't save his father. Couldn't do the right thing by Emma. And now…

There was a loud knock at the door and without so much as a noise, Neal slid out of abed and crossed the room. Desperate to answer before the commotion woke Henry. He didn't bother asking who it was, he already knew the answer.

"Quite," he hissed softly as he threw open the door, "he just got to sleep."

"I told you to stay away from my son and you—" She started in on him, her tone yelling even if her voice was not.

Neal didn't have the strength to deal with her undue hatred right now. "He overheard you and your mom talking and figured he would get the truth from me," he said, cutting her off.

She calms, and has the decency to look slightly ashamed—not enough to apologize, of course, she wouldn't be Emma if she showed contrition so easily. "What did you tell him?"

"Everything."

She looks at him in disbelieve and anger. And Neal looked back, matching her glair. What else did she expect him to do, tell him another round of lies?

"I wasn't going to lie to him and the kid's tough enough to handle the fact that we had a wild youth."

Without a word, Neal grabbed his jacket from where it hung on the back of a chair and walked over to the bed. He threw it over Henry and picked the boy up. Neal's heart flutters as Henry's face nuzzles closer into his neck, but the boy didn't wake.

"August told me about the money," she said as they reached the car. Neal didn't reply. There really wasn't' much he could say—not without it ending in a string of curses directed at the puppet. He had been the one to ruin everything, so wasn't it only proper that he be the one to fix it. And yet, Neal bristled at the thought of August trying to fix things. Hadn't eh done enough?

He waited for Emma to say something—anything else—as he strapped Henry into the passenger seat of the bug, but she never did and Neal was left to wonder how everything came to be like this.

Things used to be so easy between them—so natural. They had never really needed to talk even though they never ran out of things to talk about. he could remember them sitting for hours talking about stupid stuff—the things kids talked about when they didn't have a care or a worry in the world. He could remember it being so easy…

But now every word was a fight in and of itself. Both of them were tired of being right… and tired of being wrong.

This had to stop and the only way that would happen is if he came clean.

"Emma," he whispered as she opened the driver's side door.

She stopped and turned to look at him, her arm resting against the open door.

Neal took a deep breath, trying to inhale the strength he needed to speak the next, terrible words. It was something he had never talked about…something he had never wanted to talk about, but it was something the needed to be said. Emma needed to hear this as much anything.

"You asked me how I could just believe," he said, staring at her, begging her see the truth in his words. He didn't think he could handle much more of this—of her hating him. "It's because I was born in that world. I know what price magic costs—I know how it's never the casters that pay that price. It's always an innocent, someone who deserves never to be involved in it."

"What—?" It took a moment for his words to sink in, but when they did her disbelieve turned to anger.

"Don't tell me you were supposed to be watching me too," she hissed, slamming the car door and stepping closer to him.

"No, I didn't even know about the curse until August told me. I didn't know about you—your destiny."

She gave him an 'oh really' look that told him that she didn't believe him.

Neal smiled and could feel the lines around his eyes deepen for the first time since coming to Storybrooke. "Don't look at me like that. You were the one who stole, my car remember?"

Emma crossed her arms and her face softened a bit, "You're going to have to explain better than that."

"My past isn't something I like thinking about—let alone talk about. I haven't had enough sleep or liquor to change that," he sighed. "Tomorrow after work. I'll tell you everything…"

He takes the necklace—her necklace—out of his pocket and drops it into her hand, "if you'll let me."

She didn't look up as she stared at the charm and for a moment Neal was afraid she would throw it at him again. That she would completely close that door to him.

"And then," he said, choking on the words, "And then if you still want me to, I'll leave. But you have to hear the full story first."

Emma didn't say anything. She just gave one curt nod and drove away, taking the charm with her.


	12. Cancer

So you guys thought you were going to get the Emma/Neal conversation this chapter, huh? Insert evil-maniacal laughter here.

But I think this will more than make up for it. PREPAIR YOUR FEELS. This one drained me just writing it. I almost quit 2/3 of the way through to play Sims3 just to give my poor, breaking heart a rest. But no. I had promised myself that I would not touch my new expansion packs until you guys had this chapter. (Black Friday deal—buy directly from Sims website and get half off. I got the last three for about the cost of one. And my family wonders why I have no life. Lol.)

Next chapter is the conversation. I promise.

As always, enjoy and let me know what you think.

* * *

For the first time in a long time Neal slept peacefully. Perhaps there was some truth to what Henry had said about the candle, or perhaps he was just too exhausted to dream. Either way, that night he had the best night's sleep since before he drove Emma away.

That didn't stop him from waking to a living nightmare.

Neal had known that Henry had a bad habit of skipping school but, besides the fact that Henry was ten and school tended to be kind of important in this world, he really hadn't had much of a problem with it…until now. When Henry didn't show up for class this morning, everyone kind of figured he had just skipped again but no one could fathom why.

It had taken two hours for them to check everywhere he could possibly be and the answer had shaken him to his bones.

And that was how he, Emma, her parents, Regina, and a few family friends all found themselves huddled together in Snow's kitchen, trying to come up with some plain to save the boy.

"So this Cora, how bad is she really?" Neal asked dreading the answer.

"My mother's something out of you worst nightmare." Regina spat, not even bothering to hide the anger in her voice. A part of Neal wanted to snap back, to tell her that everyone being at each other's throats wasn't going to help Henry, but he didn't. Everyone here was trapped in the same horror story.

Neal's stomach turned. His nightmares were pretty bad and there was no way she could know that. But that wasn't the point. Worse or not, it was still obviously a situation he never wanted Henry to be in.

"Blue," David said, looking over to where Reul Ghorm stood, "how long were you able to get the barrier down for?"

"Twelve hours, at most."

The barrier that kept most in the town limits was one of their biggest challenges to finding him. Because crossing the line would wipe any memory of the enchanted forest from the minds of those cursed, it severally limited just who could be in the rescue party.

Almost everyone here would have gladly made that sacrifice, but it would have defeated the purpose and by all accounts, Neal, Emma, August, and Regina just weren't going to be enough to defeat this witch.

It was David's idea to go to Reul, to see what she could do to help and, as always, she had come through. It had been close, but she had had somehow managed to wrangle up enough magic to temporarily punch a hole in the veil dividing this world from the next.

"And what happens if we are still outside when if falls back into place?" Emma's mother asked with a determined note to her voice. She didn't give a rat's ass either way, but she still wanted to be prepared.

Reul looked down. "I can't say, maybe nothing…"

She trailed off and everyone could fill in the rest.

"Or maybe we lose our memories?" Red said, bracing herself. She, like Snow, had already made her choice and Neal was touched to find that Henry was so truly loved by so many people. People who weren't even related to him.

"It doesn't matter. That's a risk we have to take." David said.

"How will you even find them? Couldn't they could be anywhere?" Belle asked.

Some in the rescue party had been surprised when she showed up to help—mostly it was Regina and those who didn't know her. Even if few knew it, Belle was just as involved as the rest of them.

Emma turned to Reul, her one track mind for emotions set on anger. "Can't we use fairy dust or something to find him?"

Reul shook her head remorsefully. "We used it all bringing down the barrier."

They could probably find more in the mines, but there wasn't time to look. Whatever they were going to do, it had to be soon. It had to be before Cora lost patience with using him as bait; before she could do anything that would hurt Henry.

Emma turned to Regina but didn't have a chance to say anything.

"I have nothing left. I used it all to help bring it down." Regina seemed so completely broken by the truth—they all were.

Neal knew Emma. Her reaction was more frustration then anything but that didn't help the situation any. "You can honestly expect me to—"

"If you think for one moment, Miss Swan," she hissed getting in Emma's face, "that I wouldn't do anything in my power to save my son—"

"Alright," Snow said stepping in between her daughter and her stepmother (Neal had stopped trying to figure out this fucked up family tree), "this isn't helping anyone."

"What about Gold?" Ruby asked, bringing the conversation back to the issue.

Regina snorts.

"We've already asked and he refused." David said, giving her an unamused look.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with all this to begin with just to get the barrier down. He's had some sort of trip planed since before the curse was even broken."

Regina's words sent chills down Neal's spine. This was just another thing that rested with him. As if the curse wasn't bad enough. As if forcing him to give up Emma wasn't enough. Now it was Henry… Rumplestiltskin would not rest until every pure thing in Neal's life was nothing but ash, would he?

"I've tried stalling him by reminding him that I have family here—that it would be unfair to force me to choose—but he's been waiting for this for so long…" Belle said, trying to explain without betraying either man's trust. Neal was touched that she had gone through such lengths to keep his secret—that she had risked damaging her relationship with Gold for him, but that didn't change a thing. That didn't save Henry.

"What does he want?" Snow asked and Belle looked uncomfortable, unsure how much truth she could tell without skirting far too close to a truth that wasn't hers to tell.

"He's been looking for something for a long time—something that escaped into this realm—and that's all he's wanted since." She sighed and Neal could tell how much she hated having to make excuses for the old man. "He's so focused on getting it that he doesn't want to risk the chance that the barrier won't fall again."

"That's what this entire curse has been about? Finding this?" Regina hissed in disgust at the thought that all this pain, all this destruction was all rooted in Gold's desire to find some trinket. Neal felt the same way; he had since the moment he heard of the curse.

David's head swiveled over to face Regina. "What?"

"I may have enacted the cures but I didn't create it. That was all him."

Belle nodded and looked directly at Neal. "And he won't rest until he gets it."

Neal could hear the message behind it all; it was something he had known since the beginning of the conversation, but he had hoped that there was another way—any way. But there wasn't. Of course not, because that would mean that, for once, the world was working in his favor and that just didn't happen.

Ruel and August shared a loaded look. They knew as well as he did what was going to happen next, because as much as Neal hated Rumplestiltskin, as much as he never wanted to have this conversation, he loved his son more. He wasn't going to let his cowardice and fear cost him the best thing in his life.

Neal pursed his lips and hopped down from where he was sitting on the counter.

"Where are you going?" Emma asked, as he reached the door. At the sound, his hand stilled over the knob.

"This ends now." Neal said not turning around. He shouldn't have been surprised at the shear venom in his voice but he was and he knew he wasn't the only one to notice it.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" August asked. He wasn't trying to be a dick, Neal knew that, but the puppet already knew the answer and Neal didn't have the patience to deal with stupid ass questions right now. Not when the only thing that stood between him and his son was the very thing that had haunted his nightmares since his fourteenth birthday.

"I don't really have a choice," he growled, his hand still on the knob.

"Alright Neal, what the hell?" Emma asked.

Neal's shoulders slumped and he turned to face her. If anyone was owed answers, it was her, and he would have told her everything—hell it had already been on his to do list for today—but there was no time. Not when that witch could be doing who knows what to Henry.

"Remember how I told you I was born in that world? Let's just say I know what he wants and where it is."

It was all the explanation he could give her—all he could say without leading to more questions that he just didn't have the time to answer.

"Neal?" Belle asked.

Neal paused, door open and he half through it and looked back at her. At the woman that meant so much to his father…at the woman that was far more then he deserved.

"Try not to be too rough with him, will you?"

Neal didn't bother hiding his snort as he walked out the door, leaving the confused masses in his wake. The sad part was that, had it been any other time and under any other circumstances, Neal would have at least tried to heed her request. He owed her that much for her silence and yet he wasn't going to lie to her or to himself and say he'd try.

There was just too much left unsaid, too much bad blood…and the stakes were just too high this time.

Now it was war.

* * *

It was odd. Neal had dreaded this moment since he had heard of the curse—since he realized that eventually his past would come knocking—and had always imagined a plethora of hesitation when the moment came. But now that the reckoning was upon him, there was none. Every nerve sung with righteous fury, deep seated pain, and even deeper disgust.

He entered the shop and stayed close to the door as he watched Gold hurriedly pack a suitcase. Neal didn't bother wondering what Gold could need from this shop or what bit of magic was so important to him. Neal just didn't care.

The little bell over the door had jingled, so Neal knew Gold wasn't oblivious to him being there, but the old man had given no indication that he cared. He knew what Neal was here for and had no care to help.

"Did you have anything to do with it?" Neal asked, not really caring about the answer.

Gold's hand pauses only briefly over the case as he turned to look at Neal.

"Pardon?"

"Henry," Neal spat "Did you have anything to do with that witch getting him?"

"I'm sorry about your boy Mr. Cassidy—truly I am…"

Neal held up a hand, cutting him off. There wasn't time for this shit.

"You know what, I don't want to know. I guess the real question is what makes you think he wants to be found?"

The words came tumbling out of his mouth before his could stop them—before he could really think about how it would sound to Gold—but it was something Neal had wanted to ask for eleven years. Something that had haunted him since hearing about the curse.

"Henry?" Gold asked, confused, and as Neal replayed the sentence in his mind he could understand the mix up.

It was time to take the kid gloves off. It was time to bring up a ghost Neal thought he had long ago buried.

"Baelfire." The word tasted bitter on his tongue, like the coppery taste of blood after getting punched in the face by a pro wrestler.

Gold stilled and he turned to look at Neal, his eyes narrowed. "I don't know what Booth has told you."

Now it's Neal's turn to be confused but he brushed the comment off. This wasn't about August. "August didn't have to tell me anything."

Despite the centuries of perfecting his poker face, Neal could still see right through to the emotions lingering deep within the older man's heart…to him, the Imp was as easy to read as he had been during the good times before the dagger and before the Dark One.

Gold knew the truth about Neal. He was a smart man and had probably had at least an inkling of the truth for a while, but it hadn't registered in his mind…or perhaps he just didn't want to see it. Either way it wasn't Neal's problem.

Neal walked closer and ran his hand over the suitcase lid, feeling the softness of the old leather. He looked Gold dead in the eye and flipped the top up. Normally, the revelation that his father had kept so many of his old things—things that had never really meant all that much to him…things that the old man obviously cherished now—would have been touching. But Neal didn't have time for that.

It was kind of messed up that he was the one needing to prove himself to the old man, but if that's what he had to do then so be it.

"I knew no good would come out of your plan—the one to burn down the duke's castle—but I went along with it. You want to know why?" It was a little sick and a little twisted, but Neal enjoyed the flash of fear that crossed Gold's face. He could no longer deny what was right in front of him.

And yet at the same time the sad, lonely little boy inside him didn't want to hurt his papa's feelings. it was the same part that had never mentioned when the other boys had made fun of him for being the son of a the town coward. He had never wanted to put that at his papa's feet.

"That was the one moment I looked up to you most. I knew what everyone else refused to see: that underneath it all, your cowardice, your fear, you were a brave man. A good man." Neal's voice broke with emotion but he didn't stop. He couldn't. This all had been too long in the making. "Even though it was stupid and foolish plan, you were finely being what you could always have been if you let yourself."

Neal gives a bitter laugh, not looking at his father's face, unwilling to let Gold see the tears he just couldn't hold back.

"If only I knew what happened next, right?" he whispered, sounding heartbroken even to his own, angry ears.

"Bae." Gold breathed, reaching out to put his hand on Neal's shoulder. Neal pulled back sharply and Gold's hand dropped, his face shattered like a religious man who's angel had disappeared into the mist, leaving him desolate and alone.

How dare he try and act like nothing had changed…like the mere fact that they were together fixed everything.

The truth was that this reunion had cost Neal everything and the old man should have at least had the decency to acknowledge that fact.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Gold whispered and Neal could feel hurt in his voice.

If it hadn't been for the circumstances, he would have heeded Belle's request. He would have lied and said that he just wasn't ready…but he was too angry and had tasted too much blood for that now.

"I wasn't going to," he growled and Rumple's face seemed to fall even more if possible.

If he had been in a forgiving mood, Neal would have let that be it and changed the subject, would have brought the conversation back to the real reason he was here. But Neal wasn't in a pardoning mood. Far from it. He had found a weakness and couldn't stop if he wanted to.

"You backing out of our deal…killing all those people and saying it was for me…even you becoming something that hunted my nightmares; I let it all go." He hissed, stepping forward and now it was the coward's turn to shrink back. "Even the months I had to keep reminding myself to call you 'papa' because I was petrified of what would happen if I slipped up—all the times I went to bed too terrified to even tremble in my sleep because you were there, watching, spinning on that wheel like nothing had changed. I let it all go. I refused to hate you."

There was a flash of profound relief in Gold's face but Neal wasn't done. Not by far.

"Until I found out about your curse. How many lives did you destroy in the process? Just to keep our deal?"

"You always were the better man, Bae." Gold began but Neal didn't want to hear it. The old man wasn't listening, not really. He was telling Neal just what he thought he wanted to hear. It was just like before, back home when his life was hell…nothing had changed…not even his father.

"Why did I have to be!" he roared, his voice going horse.

Neal took a deep breathe, trying to calm down, but he was only partially successful. "You know, I was cursed to."

Gold's eyes flashed in confusion and Neal could read the thoughts bouncing around in his skull. He was trying to figure out what went wrong—what bit of magic fell out of his control—and that only served to make Neal more disgusted with him. The man had no empathy. No soul.

"You're a cancer and the more I try and cut you out of my life the more you infect every chance I have at happiness. Do you know what it was like to give up the one good thing I had in this world—the one thing that made coming alone to this insane world worth it? To betray the one person I love most so that one day she would be strong enough to clean up your mess."

Neal had finally done it. He had finally gotten to the one thing he hated the old man most for and as selfish as it was, it wasn't for cursing so many people. It wasn't for doing so many horrors and it wasn't even for saying they were for him. The one thing Neal hated him most for was something a million times worse.

"I had to cut out my own heart to do it, but I still did it," his voice broke and his face was wet as he stared at the old man. The next words came out as a bitter, mocking, laugh but Neal was unsure just who it was directed at. The old man, or Neal himself for actually listening. "Why? Because it was the right thing, because I was the better man."

"And I lost the chance to raise my own son in the process."

Gold looks like it's the first time he registered the connection between Neal and Henry since the revelation and is sickened by the news…or at least what it would mean. Good. After all the crap he's done—after all the times he's used the kid as a pawn in some sick, twisted, chess game, Neal was glad to see that one hurt.

Neal took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. The mention of Henry brought his mind back to the real reason he was facing his demon. As much as he was enjoying hurting Gold—as cathartic as it was to finally say these things—it wasn't going to help Henry.

"I'm asking for your help because it's the last option I have. Will you help us save Henry?"

"Yes, of course." Gold answered quickly and for the first time that day, Neal could see that he was being genuine—that there was no ulterior motive or whisper of cost in the back of the Imps mind. And he was glad. Neal needed that one sliver of hope that maybe; just maybe, his father wasn't as hollow as he had feared.

Neal turned to leave but a single word stopped him.

"Bae." Gold's voice was a broken and Neal felt and that was the only thing that kept Neal from telling the old man that he had buried that name. That it brought him as much pain as any other word. Gold had given him that one sliver of hope and so Neal was repaying that with a small mercy of his own.

"I've only ever tried to do right by you." Gold whispered.

Neal turned, his moment of mercy over as he made no effort to hide the disgust on his face.

"How could you when you allowed yourself to get twisted to the point where you don't even know the difference between right and wrong anymore? And you like it this way. Doing the right thing takes courage and that's something you never allowed yourself. Now that you have the power to take what you want you can tell yourself that everything's justified, but it's not. You don't have the courage to draw a line between right and wrong and you want me to be happy that all you've done is paint the world red?"

He sighed and opened the door, careful not to look at his father's shattered face—Neal was already too emotionally drained to handle that.

"And you wonder why the world around you is ash. You disgust me."

* * *

After a quick pit stop back at Grannies to splash some water on his face, Neal headed back to Emma's parents' house. When he got there everyone was staring at him, expressions ranging from expectant to curious, and he couldn't help but wonder what August and Reul had told them in his absence.

"So will he help?" Emma asked, thankfully keeping to the true issue.

Neal nodded and leaned against the wall for support. "If he doesn't, he has no soul left."

Belle's eyes furrowed in distress and once again Neal felt bad for not heeded her request, if only for her sake, but he just couldn't. He wasn't a good enough man for it.

"What did you tell him?" Belle asked, preparing herself for the state Gold would be in.

"Probably more then he wanted to hear. I'm sorry," Neal muttered, meaning every word, "but I've been waiting too long to say those things to hold back.

Belle nodded and left to go comfort Gold. She was a smart girl; she had probably expected as much.

Those few who didn't already know the story had their eyes glued to Neal, wanting for an explanation they had no right to—an explanation he was just too exhausted to give.

"Neal, what the hell?" Emma asks, looking at him like the rest of them. Neal sighed. If anyone here deserved an explanation…

"I told you it's a long story and I promise I will tell you everything… but after we get Henry home."

She nodded and Neal sighed, thankful for the reprieve.

Unfortunately, the reprieve was short lived. Regina stared at him, studying, and the gears clicked into place. Neal had given too many clues—had finally said just the right thing (or was it wrong)—and now she figured it out.

"You're his son. It all makes sense now," she said covering her mouth with one hand. Neal was alright with Regina despite the oddness of their family situation—but now he wanted to hit her. She was enjoying the truth far too much.

Apparently they hadn't gotten any answers of substance out of Belle, Reul, or August while he was gone, because he felt half a dozen faces snap towards him, waiting for a denial that wouldn't come.

"How is that funny?" he hissed, ignoring the army of eyes aimed at him.

"Considering how many times he has used Henry as a pawn to further his own agenda…"

August looks over and saw the pure exhaustion on Neal's face. Neal didn't' have the energy to deal with this now.

"You do realize that that makes you related to Gold in a roundabout sort of way." August muttered to Regina.

"What?"

August smirked. "Well you are one of Henry's moms."

The dumbstruck look on Regina's face would have been funny any other time, but now Neal was just at the end of his rope.

"Can we please just get back to figuring out what the hell we're going to do!" He shouted, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

After a few seconds of awkward staring, David took pity on him and herded the rest of them into the living room to talk shop while Neal slumped against the counter, his head in his hands.

"Neal," Emma said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Neal looked at her, infinitely grateful that she was giving him this one moment of respite—that whatever hate or anger she might feel towards him was being put away, if only for that moment. He needed that one moment of knowing she still cared.

"No." he said, picking his head up, "But I think…I think once we get Henry back, I will be."


	13. Seven Seconds

So sorry this took so long. Darth Real Life is a bitch of a sith to slay (and sims3 is a gigantic black hole that eats free time).

I do have good news, though. Originally there was only like three more chapters left before I completely ran out of things to write, but something mentioned on a podcast over last week's episode gave my muse a bit more to chew over, so I do have another arc planed.

Enjoy.

* * *

Neal sat on the hood of the bug and leaned back against the windshield, looking up at the stars. He probably could have gotten away with putting this conversation off until tomorrow. With all that had happened today—Henry being kidnaped and rescued and the entire confrontation with Gold—Emma would have understood. Hell, she was almost just as emotionally worn out as he was, but the thing was, he just wanted it all over with. This had been poising his life for far too long.

"So you want to hear my story?"

"That was kind of the deal." Emma said, sliding onto the hood beside him and handing him a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. He looked at it and smiled.

"It was a dark and stormy night…"

"Neal." She said, telling him to cut the bullshit. Was it wrong of him to try and lighten the mood? To try and make this all less painful for him?

"What? That's how horror stories usually start around here, right?" He said, twisting off the cap.

She looked at him, not really buying his charm and he sighed.

"Where to start?" he muttered to the stars, taking a sizeable swig from the bottle. There was just so much to tell and even now there were parts of it that didn't make much since to him.

"For as long as I could remember it had just been me and him and that was alright. I always knew I was the most important thing in his life—I never questioned it. And then…" he hesitated, losing the words.

Taking a different approach he turned to her and looked into her eyes, begging her to understand. "The first thing you have to understand, Emma, is that the Gold you know is nothing like what he used to be.

Neal needed her to realize that the monster in Henry's book and the jackass she knew now…neither of them were really his papa. And that having so many good memories made it all the worse. At least if he had been a bastard from the beginning, Neal would have had nothing to compare him to.

"People would make fun of him behind his back and to his face—called him a coward. For the most part, adults wouldn't do that in front of me, but children can be cruel. I heard what the other kids called him and knew they had heard it from their own parents. I never asked why, because honestly it never mattered. He was my _papa _and I saw the truth underneath it all—I knew that he could be brave if he only let himself—but I guess he had heard himself called that so much that even he believed it."

The last words came out as a whisper and Neal looked back at the stars. He could still picture his papa through the eyes of a boy—the flawed yet somehow perfect man he had wanted to be just like in a lot of ways—the man he was sure Gold could still be.

"Through all this I did have one friend: Morraine. Our birthdays were within the same week so we saw ourselves as special friends. We would play together all the time…and she was the only one of the kids in the village who never said one bad thing about my papa."

"Sounds like someone had a crush." Emma muttered as she elbowed him playfully.

"Er…" he muttered, wondering if Emma was talking about him or Morraine.

"Don't lie." She teased and in that moment he could see what she was trying to do. She was trying as desperately as he was to keep it as light as possible—to help him hold onto his saintly and sobriety. Without that he would have been a lot deeper into the bottle then he already was.

"Okay maybe a little…Now can I finish the story?"

She nodded and turned her own eyes to the stars as if she were trying to picture his words played across the dark canvas like a movie screen. A part of him wanted to stop now—to keep her from the same things that had fueled his nightmares for what felt like eternity…but deep down he knew she could handle it. She always had been stronger than he.

He took another drink, steeling himself as the story edged closer and closer to the darkness.

"The world we lived in was like the dark ages—feudalism and all that crap. At the same time there was a war going on. I don't know what it was about…not really. All I knew was that the sky was always red with blood and the village empty of anyone old enough to fight the Ogres.

"On Morraine's fourteenth birthday, some knights came into our village and dragged her out. The draft age had been lowered. Again. Her parents tried to stop them but there was nothing they could do. The nights had the Dark One under their control."

"The what?"

Of course she wouldn't have heard of it. That would make this all too easy.

"A dark wizard." It was an oversimplification but it was still the truth and honestly he wouldn't know how to describe it otherwise. A demon? Darkness incarnate? Everything he could think of sounded too much like something an overly superstitious boy from the dark ages would say, and none of them were all that close of an answer anyways.

"Nonetheless, it scared the hell out of me—my birthday was just a few days away—but it scared my dad more. He packed us up that night."

"Wait a minute. They wanted fourteen year olds to fight a war…against ogres?" For the first time during his story she was appropriately shocked and Neal couldn't help but wonder if she had any first hand experience with the beasts.

Neal shrugged. What else could he say?

"Neal," she whispered, "that's not much older then—"

"Henry. I know." He said, finishing her thought with a swig. He had never blamed his father for why he became the dark one, just what he became after. Now that Neal had Henry to think about, it just added another layer to the horror. Another corner of his mind for the nightmares to hide in. another form for his demons to take.

"We didn't get far though," he said, bringing the conversation back to the horrors of the past rather than the horrors of a possibility that would never happen. "The knights passed us on the road and we knew we couldn't run."

He swallowed back a bunch of bitter memories before continuing. Neal trusted Emma with everything he was, but there were somethings he couldn't say aloud. She didn't need to hear the details of how his papa had been humiliated there. "So we went home."

"On the way back, we were approached by a strange beggar who saw the whole thing and promised he could help."

"Take it that didn't work out so well." She muttered humorously, reacting to his bitter little laugh.

"You have no idea."

After another sip of liquid courage, he continued.

"I didn't like the idea of running. I mean I didn't want to fight, but if that's what I had to do… anyways, as I slept, the beggar told my dad a story. He told him that there was a way to control the Dark One—that that was the only reason the creature was working for the Duke to begin with.

"When I woke up the beggar was gone and my dad had this crazy ass plan. We were going to break into the Duke's castle and take the ability to control the Dark One from him."

"How would you take that?" Emma asked and Neal knew she was confused. He had been vauge for a reason.

"Please don't ask me that," he said looking at her, his eyes begging her not to push it.

"That bad, huh?"

"No. It's just as much as I hate him, I don't want to tell anyone how to kill him." It was a blunt and brutal statement, but that didn't make it any less true.

"Even me?" Emma teased, trying once again to lighten the mood.

He looked at her and couldn't help but wonder if it was pure emotion that laced his voice or if it was the whisky doing the talking. Probably both. "No Emma, I'd tell you if you asked. I'm just asking you not to ask."

She looked back at him, measuring, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had somehow gone too far. If he had been too honest.

"So what was this plan?" She was trying to change the subject and Neal wasn't yet drunk enough to miss that. He looked down at the bottle in his hands, debating if maybe it was time to put the cap on, before he decided not to. The worst part of the story was yet to come.

"We wrapped some torches in wool and dipped them in lanolin—" he stopped, realizing that Emma wouldn't know what that was. "It's made from sheep and it's highly—"

"Flammable." She finished for him and it was his turn to look confused. "Yeah, I know."

"Apparently your little adventure wasn't the last time he pulled that one."

He almost asked for more details but she just motioned for him to continue and he knew she was right. That was a story for later.

"That night he ran into the castle as it burned and I did what he told me—I went home and waited." He took a drink, ignoring the fact that the bottle was already half gone. It didn't matter. This was where he needed it most. This is where the story really started to get difficult. "I didn't sleep. I couldn't. I just sat there waiting, thinking."

He looked over to her, watching for a sign that she understood, but her face was still turned towards the stars and he couldn't get a read on her.

"I knew it would end badly…I knew that the moment he told me what he was going to do but I said nothing because in that one moment I was the proudest of him that I could ever be. It was the one time he let himself be the courageous man I knew he could be. It was the one time he didn't let the villagers words define him.

"It doesn't change the fact that it would have been better if I had just fought."

Her head whipped around in disbelief, probably imagining a child—one resembling Henry a bit too much for comfort—going against those creatures. But didn't she get it? Didn't she understand? If he had fought—died or not—his father would not have become the Dark One and there would have been no curse. She would have grown up as deserved: a princess in a castle surrounded by all the love and adoration she had been so lacking in this world.

"Around sunup I heard a noise at the door, I got up to meet him, to find out how it all went, but it wasn't him. It was the knights. In all the excitement I had kind of forgotten it was my birthday.

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared but the thing is…in a way I was relieved too. If dad failed then maybe everything wouldn't go to shit. They dragged me out and I didn't really fight it.

"I knew something went wrong when I saw him standing there—or maybe something had gone right. I don't know. He killed the knights and he enjoyed it.

"The sad thing is that I could understand it. They had been dicks and they had been willing to hurt me. I may have done the same had it been Henry…but he didn't have to humiliate them first. I could see it in his eyes; something Dark had taken root and was hollowing him out from the inside. He wasn't my papa anymore and I was afraid of him." The last part was whispered like a dirty confession and in a way it was.

Emma looked at him, and Neal could tell she was really trying to understand, but something just wasn't clicking for her.

"I know Gold is an ass, but he's that horrifying."

"No Emma," he said, his eyes burrowing into hers, willing her to comprehend horrors she had never seen. It was a tall order, but if she didn't then she would never truly know how he could just give her up. If she never knew then she could never forgive and he wasn't going to let Rumplestiltskin take her from him. Not again. "He wasn't like Gold. He was so much worse…he wasn't even human."

She wasn't getting it; it was time to take a different direction. "Have you read Henry's book?"

She looks down and muttered "skimmed it a bit."

"Well take a good look next time. Almost thirty years without magic has done a lot to help him."

"O—kay" she said, drawing out the word. She didn't really understand…but Neal kind of figured it was the kind of thing you had to see to believe so he let it go. That wasn't the most important part anyways.

"The next two months were hell. I was terrified of him but he went on like nothing had changed. Now that he could conjure anything we wanted he thought things were better, but I would have traded it all in a heartbeat. He wasn't my papa anymore but I had to keep reminding myself to always call him that. I was terrified of what would happen if I slipped.

"He didn't sleep anymore. He just sat there spinning thread on his wheel like he always did but that didn't stop the nightmares, it only made them worse. He never noticed. I was too terrified to tremble even in my sleep. I was living in a horror movie…the cheap made-for-TV kind where someone's possessed or something and the ones who notice can't say anything because nobody else would believe them…"

"The nightmares never really went away."

Her head snapped over, skeptical, although he couldn't tell if it was because she had trouble buying his truths or because she was unsure she liked the direction this was going. "But you never had nightmares."

"I never had nightmares with _you, _Emma. With you I always felt safe."

"Don't talk like that," she muttered, grabbing the bottle from his hand and taking a swig and he couldn't help but be grateful that she didn't comment on how much was gone.

"Like what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"I'm still pissed at you," she reminded him but even mostly drunk, he could tell he was making progress.

"Fine," he snorted. "Nightmares weren't really an issue on our road trip. Better?"

She grunts.

"So how did you get here?" she asked changing the subject and he knew she wasn't talking about Maine.

He gave an ironic little smile. "I made a deal with him. If I could find a way to get rid of his powers—a way that wouldn't hurt me or kill him—then he would do it.

"We even shook on it." he said sarcastically as if that guaranteed the outcome.

"It didn't take me long. Morraine was one of the few people who weren't afraid to talk to me. She told me on old story she had heard during her short time on the front lines—a story about something more powerful than what ever had its hooks in my father. Reul Gorum. The Blue Fairy.

"She said that she couldn't fix him, but she could send us to a place where whatever the hell was wrong with him would be gone: a land without magic.

"I took the bean and went straight home so dad could hold up his end of the bargain. When I threw it down, a horrible vortex appeared and I was afraid of what was on the other side, but I was more frightened of staying—of being around my father when he was like that.

"The portal frightened him a lot more, apparently because as it was sucking us in he grabbed my hand and dug his blade into the ground. And in that moment I knew he wasn't going to come. He wasn't going to leave behind the power he had never had before."

His voice cracked and he couldn't keep his eyes form watering. Neal had thought he put this all behind him—that it was all ancient history—but it came out rawer then he expected. He sounded like a lost little boy, abandoned and alone…but he wasn't that little boy any more. Not really.

"I don't know if my hand slipped or if he let me go." It hurt to say and it hurt even more not to know, but maybe just saying the words could begin to heal the wounds. "But when I came through I was alone."

Emma looked at him with sympathy and part of him wanted to jerk the bottle back. He knew Emma well enough to know she never really pitied anyone, but his skin crawled all the same. Neal blew into his palms and rubbed them together, looking over at Emma with his most charming smile. She smiled a little back and it wasn't as genuine as Neal would have liked, but anything was better than some invisible (and possibly nonexistent) pity.

"So there I was in a strange world looking like I had escaped from a renaissance fair. Everyone thought I was crazy and after a while I stopped talking…didn't sleep much either. I just stayed up watching TV, trying to learn the rules of this world.

"I was in and out of a shrink's office so much, I knew them better than I knew the lady that ran the home... not that she liked me much anyways. Honestly, I think she thought I was a sociopath in the making or something. She would always watch me and was sure to keep me from all cooking utensils and most sports equipment."

Emma's lips twitched as she put the bottle to her lips and he continued.

"I would have continued like that but about a year after getting here, I got the best piece of advice I had ever heard. It was picture day and the photographer was heckling me about not smiling during the shot. I didn't get it. What did I have to smile about? But the kid beside me—he was living in the same home as I was—told me the truth: that no one here cares how you feel. It's all about how you look. If I would just give them what they wanted they would shut the hell up and leave me alone.

"So I did. I gave them my most dazzling smile and they left me alone. It didn't take me long to realize that it didn't just apply to school pictures. Back at the home I did what they expected—I said what they wanted to hear—and they stopped thinking I was crazy. They started thinking that whatever treatments they were trying worked.

"I may have had the adults fooled, but the kids at school were another matter entirely. They still thought of me as the freak and kids can be cruel. I was sixteen when I took off. Starting over alone wasn't as scary when you've already done it once.

"I took odd jobs to get by and even picked up a few skills that are generally frowned upon, but other than that, I did okay for myself…I put my old life behind me and never looked back.

"And then you came along and for the first time ever I started to feel healed. We were both two fucked up kids alone in the world…but we weren't alone; we had each other. For the first time I thought that maybe coming here was worth more than just getting away from my dad—for finding you.

"I guess the joke was on me."

Oh god was the joke on him. Of all the people he could fall in love with… she had to be one of the only other people on earth from the enchanted forest. She had to be the only person who could clean up the mess he left by running. It was horribly ironic and poetic in a morbid kind of way.

Neal eyed the bottle in her hands and considered asking for it back but thought better of it. Instead he just kept talking, finally coming to the one truth that mattered. The one truth he needed her to know more than anything.

"I really had been planning to come back with the money—for us to go to Tallahassee. But when August told me everything, about my father and about the curse, what else was I supposed to do? I didn't want to let you go but how could I not? This was all my fault, if I had just stayed, none of this would have happened."

"No kid should live in fear like that." She said, looking over at him with a concern he had feared disappeared like mist the moment he had turned her in, and he knew that deep down, underneath all the pain, all the anger, she still loved him as much as he loved her.

But that didn't necessarily mean they were going to get their happily ever after. Here love wasn't the most powerful thing…pain and loneliness was. Here people spent their entire lives looking for something profound and never getting it because when they do find it, they're too damaged to see it.

Maybe Storybrooke was enough like the other world to give him a chance, but Emma was raised in this one. She was just as damaged and had just as many trust issues as the rest of them.

And he had done that to her.

"And no one should live cursed like this." He waved his hand in the general direction of the town and her mouth pressed. She knew he was right.

The spent a long moment just watching the stars in silence and, if Neal closed his eyes and tried real hard, it was almost like he was back in the past. That none of this crazy shit had ever happened and they were just two kids against the world.

"You know," she said, taking a drink and looking over at him, "without the curse we never would have found each other and Henry would never have been born."

It was a valid excuse, but they both knew it didn't outweigh the big picture. What did that say about them? That as horrible as it all was, neither of them would trade Henry…not even for a whole town full of people? Did it make them selfish or just human?

He stared back at her, his eyes boring into hers and came to a single conclusion. Sometimes the big picture didn't matter. Sometimes it wasn't about what was best for everyone. But that didn't make the truth any easier to live with.

"And that," he said, moving his face in closer, "is what makes it all so fucked up."

Given the state of things between them, he probably shouldn't have done it. Maybe—alright, a little more then maybe—it was the alcohol or maybe it was just the fact that they were together, here, now after all these years.

One hand held the back of her head as they kissed. He was lost in the touch and taste of her—things that had long ago been seared into his very soul and yet his memory was nothing but a pale and lifeless comparison of the real thing.

She didn't pull away, just as lost in the moment as he was, and for seven seconds all was right with the world. For seven glorious seconds, there was no curse, no nightmares, and no pain. There was just him and her and that was all they needed in their own little world.

Neal hoped this moment could go on for eternity.

She pulled back, her face pained as if she had finally come to her senses. As if she knew it was a bad idea, and that single expression shattered him more than her words. "Neal, no."

He sighed, and rested his forehead against hers, accepting the fact that that was probably all he was ever going to get. That by doing the right thing he irrevocably damaged the one thing he valued most in both worlds and this was his penance. To always be near—to look but not touch. Hell.

He looked back at the stars and was careful to keep his face causal. Like nothing had ever happened.

"So what about you?" he asked.

"What about me?"

"What happened after…" he couldn't finish. He didn't have to.

She looked down the neck of the bottle before taking a swig.

"You don't want to hear that."

"Yes Emma, I do," he said looking at her, "I may wish to god it was never like that, but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear it."

"Well," she began and he closed his eyes and rested his back against the windshield as seh told him of giving up Henry, getting out of jail, the string of bad relationships, becoming a bounty hunter. It all killed him to hear. To know it was all his fault, but he was glad she told him.

Most wouldn't notice it, be Neal knew her far too well to miss the way her tone lightened up when she got to Henry—how he had found her and drug her to Storybrooke by her heartstrings…

"So let me get this straight," Neal said with a little bit of a smile, "the kid stole a credit card, found you, hopped a bus, and tricked you into staying by leaving his book in your car."

She nodded.

"He so played you." he laughed, like he would have been any different. He had known the kid a week and already knew that if Henry tried any of that, Neal would probably fall for it…or at least let him get away with it. "The slick bastard." It wasn't an insult.

"You surprised?"

He smiled and shook his head.

"No. Not at all."

He sighed. "So not that you've heard everything do you want me to leave?"

Neal was dreading the answer. He had told her he would go and, as much as his insides churned at the thought, he would keep his word.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as if she was seeing through a layer of bullshit Neal didn't know he was spreading. "That wouldn't be fair to Henry. He's already grown attached."

Neal laughed. "Emma, I know you like me. There's no need to be hostile about it.

Emma shook her head but said nothing.

"Alright, time to get back." She said, looking at her phone. As she slid off the hood of the car, she wobbled and looked at the almost empty bottle.

"I am so not driving."

"Pass me the keys." Neal offered and Emma scoffed.

"You had more than I did."

"And you are the sheriff." He reminded her teasingly, "or is your dad the sheriff? You could call him and ask for a ride."

She gave him an umamused look and drunk or not, he could still read the thoughts behind her words. Just because she had parents now, doesn't mean she was going to accept being treated like a teenager.

"Or we could sleep it off in the car," he suggests.

"Neal." Emma warned. During their road trip they had a very specific way to keep warm on cold nights when they couldn't keep the heater running all night. He actually hadn't been implying anything. it had been her mind that had gone into the gutter, not his.

"I said sleep." He reminded her.

Emma nodded and pulled a small blanket off the floorboards of the back seat. Neal wasn't surprised she kept one there. Even after all these years there were just some habits that died harder than others and when you spent as much time living out of your car as they had…

She curled up with the blanket in the driver's seat, leaving Neal with just his jacket. He gave a sad little smile, taking that action as a hint that she was still mad. Emma looked at him and reached back, feeling for something in the backseat and hands a second blanket to him.

He smiles at her but she just turned on her side until she's facing the window.

"You know, Em, it killed me to do what I did but as horrible as it is, I wouldn't change my choice." The liquor was making him more truthful then he ever thought he would be, but maybe that wasn't a bad thing because the truth was, as much as he wished he would have done everything different, as much as he hated what he had to do, he knew that if he was put in that exact situation again, nothing would change. "That's just what good people do. They don't leave a whole town to rot in hell. I would have given anything, though, for it not to be you that got hurt."

He sighed as he spread the cover around himself.

"I know it will probably never be what it was and I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I do hope you'll at least forgive me." He looked over, memorizing every detail of her silhouette.

"I do love you. Always. "

Emma gave no indication that she had heard his confession. She might have already passed out... or maybe she was just pretending.


	14. Burried Beneath

I'm so sorry about the wait guys, between finals and getting caught up in The Walking Dead and American Horror Story, I just lost track of time. But I passed everything and recent spoilers have renewed my SwanThief feels (hope on over to the Ouncepodcast forums and look for episode 14 spoilers if you want to—I would put them here, but not everyone likes them).

On a much less pleasant note, I would like to ask you all to keep the families of Newton in your thoughts and prayers. For my overseas readers who may not know, about a week ago a gunman walked into an elementary school and killed twenty six people most of them around the age of five or six.

In regards to that, there is one last thing I would like to ask you that may be a little unorthodox. When you talk about what happened, don't mention that monster's name; forget you even know it if you can. He does not deserve to be remembered. Vicky Soto, the teacher who hid her children from the gunman and saved their lives, losing hers in the process. Emilie, the oldest of three girls who was learning Portuguese with her father. The office worker who flipped the button on the intercom system, warning the rest of the school of the attack. The stranger who gave an enter escaping class a ride to the police station. And countless others. These are the people who deserve to be remembered. These are the heroes. Not that bastrard.

* * *

Neal stood in the small kitchen of David and Snow's apartment and tried not show just how completely out of place he felt. He knew he shouldn't be here—not now. This was the first Thanksgiving—hell, the first holiday in general—that Snow, David, Emma and Henry got to celebrate as a family. He had no business being here.

"Anything you need me to do?" he asked Snow, desperate to do something, anything, to keep his mind off the shear awkwardness of the moment.

She looks at him, skeptically and Neal could tell that Emma may have mentioned what happened the one time he had tried to cook for them (no matter what anyone says, those eggs had it coming).

"Can you cook?"

"I've survived this long." Neal said, dodging the question.

"From what I've heard it's mostly been on convenience store burritos."

He grinned. "That has been a staple."

Snow looked at him and Neal had to remind himself not to squirm under the woman's gaze. She was measuring him as precisely as she would the ingredients to a cake but she said nothing and just passed him the large mixing bowl of potatoes and told him to mash.

"I'm kind of surprised I was invited," He muttered, more talking aloud then to anyone in particular.

Snow cocked her head and looks at him, honestly confused, "Why wouldn't you be?"

"Considering how," he looked, struggling for the right word to describe the complicated mess his and Emma's relationship had become. He didn't know where he stood with her; she had stopped looking at him like she was just waiting for a chance to take another cheap shot but she wasn't welcoming him back into her life—Neal knew she didn't want him here but he wasn't entirely sure she wanted him to go either. He was living on a perpetual tight rope, unsure just what way he would fall when the wind blew. "_strained _things are between Emma and I…"

"Well," Snow said, placing biscuits on a pan, "hiding in your room isn't going to fix that."

"I wasn't—" Neal began but stopped when Snow looked up at him, a single brow arched. Apparently Emma's bullshit detector was hereditary. "Okay, maybe I was."

"Besides," she continued, placing the pan in the oven and ignoring Neal's interruption, "Isn't the holidays the time to fix those relationships?"

Neal stared at her, unsure how to reply as she walked over and joined her husband. Did he read that wrong, or was she actually encouraging him?

"What was that about?" Emma said, walking over.

"I'm not entirely sure." Neal muttered, "She's not what I expected."

Emma snorted. "What _did _you expect?"

He looked down and gave the potatoes a practically vigorous mash, even though they were only a little thicker then soup at that point.

"I thought she would go all mama bear on me given how your dad reacted."

Neal looked over and saw Emma's odd expression. On anyone else it would have looked like a strange cross between being freaked out and amused but he knew Emma well enough to read the truth behind it. As uncomfortable as she was discussing Snow and David in those terms, she would have liked to see David giving him a hard time.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Henry and Snow talking by the table. Henry's face was intent and Snow's brow was furrowed like the boy was trying (and mostly succeeding) to convince her about something she wasn't entirely on board with.

"Is it just me or does it seem like they're up to something?"

Emma snorted into her hot chocolate. "Henry's always up to something."

Neal grinned. He may not have known the kid long, but he knew that was spot on. The kid always had some sort of operation going on; he was constantly trying to help…even if it was by trickery and manipulation. And the best (or perhaps worst) part of it all, Henry was good at it; he had in innate sense of good that seemed to make him smarter than someone his age should be.

A nock at the door brought him out of his thoughts and he watched as Emma walked over to open it. He could tell by the confusion on her face that they hadn't expected anyone else…at least she hadn't. a tingling along Neal's spine told him that there was a bigger surprise on the other side of the door.

He turned to look at Henry, almost accusing, but the boy deliberately looked away. This mystery guest had something to do with his new operation—whatever it was—and Neal had a sinking suspicion he knew who it was.

"Ah…" Emma said in surprise a and Neal couldn't help but give a sigh of relief when he saw who it was…as far as he was concerned, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

"Henry invited me," Regina explained, trying and failing to completely hide her discomfort. She didn't want to be here, that much was obvious, but Henry had as much sway over her as he did over the rest of them. This was what he was up to.

Emma was just as uncomfortable as the dark queen at the idea of her being invited to dinner but she said nothing. She just looked over at her mother for conformation and Snow looked away. She had known.

"I brought a pie," Regina said, holding up a covered dish as a sort of peace offering. Emma blinked once and stared at the older woman with one of her signature 'are-you-kidding-me' looks.

"It's not apple." Regina said, struggling to keep the venom out of her voice. Neal had to give her credit; she was trying and this whole thing couldn't be easy for her.

"It's not? Too bad." Neal said, walking over with one of his biggest smiles plaster across his face. the tension between the two women was suffocating think and he knew that if they let if fester, it wouldn't help this already awkward situation. The least Neal could do was try and loosen things up a bit.

Both women looked over at him like he was crazy.

"What? Her apples are good." He said, taking the dish out of Regina's hands. The older woman gave him a little smile of appreciation but Emma looked incredulous.

"You've had her apples?" she hissed, walking over to the counter with Neal to put the pie with the rest of the deserts. He just rolled his eyes and turned to look at Emma, a little surprised she hadn't already seen his thought process behind that.

"She's not stupid, Emma. If it was cursed, she would be the first suspect. Actually, by that logic, her baked goods would be some of the safest around, right?" Neal picked a sliver of crust off the pie and popped it into her mouth, all the while looking holding Emma's stare. "Umm. Pumpkin."

Emma just stared at him, unable to decide if he was crazy or not. Neal never got her answer to that unspoken question; she just turned and walked over to talk to Snow.

Neal tried not to let the hurt show. He had been trying to bridge the gap between them but he had no clue how to ease the tension between them. It had gotten better after Neal explained everything—she no longer looked like she want to punch in at every opportunity and she no longer tried to use Henry as leverage—but she was still distant. It was like she was hovering just beyond his reach, dancing somewhere along the line between indifference and caring.

He sighed and looked away; dwelling on this now wouldn't help him keep the mood light and the last thing they needed was more tension. Hell this whole damn get together needed someone to hit the release valve.

"Hey kid," he said, sitting down on the couch next to Henry.

"Hey Neal."

He hadn't been able to hang out with Henry as much as he would have liked to since coming to Storybrooke. At first he had just been another interesting stranger to the boy, a stranger his grandfather had been careful to keep as far away as possible from the boy. After Emma came home, she had made it clear that she didn't want Neal in Henry's life at all…that he and given up that right when he had sold her out. Things had gotten better after his talk with Emma, but that had only been a few days ago.

Neal would have liked nothing more than to sit here with the kid and have some male bonding time, but there was something else that needed to be done. Something Henry may not have noticed.

"Maybe you should go hang out with your mom for a bit. She looks lonely."

Henry looked over to where Emma was talking to David and MM and was confused. That didn't look like she was lonely.

Neal tipped his head in the other direction to where Regina was standing back, lingering awkwardly in the corner and Henry got it.

"Don't invite her here just to make her feel like an outsider, oaky?" Neal knew that wasn't what Henry had been trying to do, the kid wasn't like that, but he still needed to understand the other side of this. Being here wasn't easy for Regina and Henry needed to understand why.

"What do you mean?"

"She's here for you—she doesn't even like anyone else here—and it's not fair if you ask her to be here if you're just going to taunt her with how happy you are without her…with your new family."

Henry's eyes furrowed. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Not on purpose and I'm sure she knows that." Neal said, "but that doesn't mean it can't feel that way to her."

Henry thought on it for a moment and then looked over to Regina. She gave him a smile and he turned back to face Neal. "You're right."

Henry got up and walked over to his mother. Half way there he stopped, turned around and gave Neal a big smile before continuing on. There was more behind that smile but Neal couldn't even begin to guess at what…he didn't know Henry well enough to second guess what he was up to.

"That was kind of you." David said from behind him, handing Neal a beer.

Neal shrugged and took a drink. "The kid's ten. As smart and perceptive as he is, there's bound to be a few things he just doesn't think of, besides, anyone can see she's trying and that means a lot."

David was silent and Neal knew the prince could sense the deeper meaning in his words—that as much as he wanted to deny it, he wasn't just talking about Henry and Regina. When Neal had told Emma his whole horrible life story that night, he knew there was no way to keep it from getting out, the was too small and the drama too big to keep the lid tight on that volatile mixture.

He hadn't really expected Emma to keep his secrets—he had hurt her badly and was handing her the keys to the closet. She could have let all his skeletons come pouring out for the world to see lying there naked and exposed on the carpet.

But she didn't. She had kept the story to the barest minimum. All she had told those who asked was that Rumple had gotten his powers to keep Neal from being killed in the Ogre wars and the family had been separated due to a mix up with a portal. Besides the fact that Neal had had no idea about the curse until almost twenty years after it was enacted, she told them nothing.

"Gold? What are you doing here?" Emma said and Neal's head snapped around, a mixture of surprise and dread turning his insides into ice.

He couldn't be here. Not now. the last thing Emma and her family needed right now was a throw down fight in the middle of their first holiday dinner and that's not something Neal could promise, not when his feelings were still so mixed towards his father and not when all the pain he had spent decades burring had so newly come exploding to the surface like a volcanic explosion, leaving those wounds seared into him.

They hadn't even begun to heal enough for him to be ready to deal with this.

"Henry invited us." Belle said, politely.

Neal closed his eyes. Of course. That sounded like the kid but that didn't make anything any easier for him. Things between him and his father were bound to come to another boil eventually, but that didn't mean Neal wanted Henry anywhere near ground zero when that happened.

Neal looked over to David, silently asking if he had known about this and the other man looked down, almost like it was in guilt. He had known. Snow probably had too, in fact, judging by expressions, only Emma and Regina had been in the dark about this.

A brief thought flashed across his mind like lightning. Was this some sort of punishment? Where they getting some sort of twisted revenge for what happened between him and Emma all those years ago? Was that why they had been so nice to him, to give him a false sense of security? But if that was the case, then why wasn't Emma in on it? Didn't she have the most reason to want retribution?

Unless it had never been about retribution.

Neal sat his beer down on the coffee table and walked over to where Henry was talking to Regina, careful not to even look over his shoulder at the man he had both never wanted to see again and secretly prayed every day to be reunited with.

"Excuse me," he said, interrupting them, "do you mind if I talk to Henry for just one moment?"

"By all means," Regina said, guessing what it was about. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she was about as pleased with Gold's presence here as he was but Neal had enough experience reading people to know she wasn't pleased that Gold was there either.

He grabbed Henry's arm and pulled him over to a corner where they could have at least some semblance of privacy before kneeling down until he was at eye level with the boy. "Henry, what are you doing? Why would you…?"

Henry looked down and Neal couldn't tell if the kid was really ashamed of his actions or if he was just working some angle.

"I've read the stories. I know what happens to bad guys when good always wins. The either become good or they die in the fight…I know you don't want that. I don't know what I would do if something happened to my mom.

"I just thought that if my mom could try to be better for me, then maybe Mr. Gold would try for you," he said looking up at Neal, "besides, what's the point of having our family all together if no one can stand each other?"

The last part was almost a lost little whisper and, con or not, all the anger melted from Neal's face. The kid was only trying to do what he thought was best for everyone, even if he was being as manipulative as Gold in doing it.

"Oh Henry…"

"Are you mad?" Henry whispered and in that moment, Neal could tell that the kid was just as anxious about this as he was. Henry was as new to having a father as Neal was to being one and they both wanted this to work—they were both terrified of making a wrong move.

Neal put both hands just below Henry's shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze.

"No," he sighed, "I'm not mad; I just wish you would have given me a warning."

"But then you would have tried to stop me." Henry said as if it were the most obvious thing. Neal snorted. He couldn't exactly argue with that logic, now could he?

Neal just shook his head as Henry walked over to talk to Gold and Belle. His first thoughts on meeting the kid echoed in his ears. A handful was right.

Neal grabbed his beer off the coffee table and sat at the bar near the adults he could actually stand. It looked like his day just turned into the holiday from hell.

"I can't tell if the kid's delusional or smarter then all of us," he muttered to no one in particular.

Emma snorted from the seat next to him. "I've been wondering that myself."

David chuckled over the green bean casserole and stepped aside so that his wife could get to the oven.

Neal tipped the neck of the bottle of the other man's direction, "You don't happen to have anything stronger than this?"

He was going to need it. Oh god was he going to need it.

David nodded, taking an unopened bottle of whisky and a few glasses off the shelf, and sat them on the bar. "I explained the situation to Whale and was able to get some prescription strength ibuprofen, too."

Neal didn't' bother to hide his surprise. Nolan didn't seem like the kind of person to use mends even if they were just supped up Tylenol; after all wasn't he supposed to be related to the sheriff? If he was guaranteed to get away with it, he might as well have sprung for the good stuff like Xanax or something.

Snow looked over at her husband, appalled. "Is this what our first holiday as a family been reduced to? Something we need alcohol and drugs to get through?"

"It would appear that way." Regina muttered and David looked over at her, trying to decide if there was something more to the comment, if she was suitably mocking them or just making a statement. Whichever he decided it was, Nolan didn't comment. It wasn't worth a fight. Not when the group was already so volatile.

"Welcome to modern America." Emma said, pouring everyone a generous glass of whisky.

Neal could feel Gold's eyes searing into the skin of his back, but he didn't acknowledge him. He was going to do his damnedest to keep this tension from escalating into another fight. Emma—and Henry—deserved better.

"I have a question." Henry's voice came drifting over from where he was standing, talking to Gold and Belle. "If Mr. Gold is Neal's dad and you're dating him, does that mean I call you Grandma?"

Neal started coughing and he wasn't the only one. Whisky burned as it dribbled out his nose and Neal felt around desperately for a dishtowel or something to clean up the mess.

"Er…let's stick with Belle for now." Belle answered.

"Oaky, Dinner." Snow said as she pulled the turkey out the oven and Neal closed his eyes. At least he wasn't the only one trying to prevent this from going up in smoke…this was a fire he was sure he couldn't handle on his own.

Neal slammed back the rest of his drink back, knowing he would desperately need it if the night continued this way, before picking up a covered dish and walking over to the table.

"Bae," Gold began, reaching out to touch him.

"Don't," Neal said cutting the old man off. Gold's hand fell and a small, irrational part of him felt guilty for hurting him. It would be so much easier if he could just hate the old man completely—if he didn't remember the man Gold used to be. But even though Neal remembered—even though he couldn't forget the things Gold had done—he still wanted his papa back. He had wanted that for a long time.

"Just don't," he whispered, defeated. Neal saw the pained look in Gold's eyes and it cut him to the core, but that didn't change anything. Gold took the hint; his didn't try and hide how much this hurt, but he didn't say anything.

If before dinner was painfully awkward, the dinner itself was agonizingly so. No one really said a word. There had been a few feeble attempts to start a conversation (mostly made by Henry or Belle) but nothing had worked. When half the table had attempted to kill the other half at some point in time, small talk kind of became difficult.

Tensions were bad and Neal could tell that Henry noticed. The way the kid was watching them, trying desperately to keep things from flat lining. For the millionth time that night, Neal felt bad. Henry was trying so hard to fix things—to make them right—and Neal couldn't even bring himself to try. But it wasn't out of some arrogant desire to hurt Gold; it was a apprehension born out of years of disappointment and the searing knowledge that he was the only one trying. If Gold had put more of an effort into fixing things, rather than wondering just why things weren't the pure, unblemished gems they used to be…

Henry was passing notes under the table to Belle. Neal never would have noticed if Belle had had a better poker face, but she was hardly discrete as she looked down to read them. Everyone at the table noticed as she looked at Henry, undecided about whatever she wanted to go along with whatever he was asking.

"Rumple?" she said, making up her mind as she turned to face her boyfriend.

"Yes, Belle dear?"

What happened next surprised everyone, Gold most of all. She picked up the her plate of pie and planted it right between his eyes. There was a moment of comical silence as the pumpkin filling and whipped cream slid down his face.

Neal couldn't tell just how many amongst them Henry had recruited to his little plot and how many of them just picked up on it on their own. Either way, within the span of a few seconds a full blown food fight was underway.

It didn't last long but after every bit of food was plastered anywhere but on a piece of china, Neal started laughing. He didn't know why, really. It was more a release of tension then anything, but it was contagious and everyone was laughing until it got so bad many had to grip their sides and Neal even fell out of his seat.

Neal thought he was going to die when Gold whipped a bit of pie off his cheek and tasted it.

"Compliments to the chef," he said nodding to Snow, completely unaware that it had actually been Regina to make that confection.

Neal looked at Henry, unsurprised at the knowing little smirk spreading across his face. Neal took it back, he took it all back. The kid just might be right; maybe…just maybe…there was a tiny shred of hope that underneath this shit heap lies some semblance of a family buried beneath.


	15. To Beat Away the Bitterness

Merry Christmas guys. My present to you: a new chapter and a contest (details at bottom).

And yes, Grannies does serve alcohol at least in my world.

A lot of people have asked me if what happened to Millah will come into play in this story. Oh god yes. That is too juicy to pass up. Gold's favor, on the other hand, won't. the only thing I can think of him asking for is for her to find Bae and that point is a bit moot and now that Gold knows how much Emma means to Bae, I don't think he would risk things between them just to cash in that favor. The way I see it, Emma's kind of off limits for Gold to use as a chess piece anymore.

And a special thanks to nomag who pointed out Neal's accidental hypocrisy. I hadn't even thought of it that way until she pointed it out.

* * *

Neal was beginning to think this wasn't as good of an idea as Henry had made it out to be. Sure having some bounding time with Henry was at the top of his list of things to do, but the way David was looking at him made him fear slightly for his safety. He had thought that now that things had settled somewhat between Emma and him, David would back off a bit with the shark grins. No such luck.

He wouldn't try anything—not now with both Snow and Henry watching—but it was enough to make Neal wary of the sword in David's hand…even if it was just wood. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but he seriously suspected he might be limping away from this little lesson.

It had all been Henry's idea and Neal felt like he couldn't tell him no. they hadn't really had all that much time together between Neal keeping his distance before he squared things away with Emma and Henry's abduction.

And that was how he found himself behind the school with Henry and Both of Emma's parents. A part of him was surprised that the school even had practice swords (and archery supplies and a plethora of weapons Neal couldn't even name) given how overprotective parents were in this realm…or at least that's what they showed on TV.

According to Henry, however, the more colorful gym equipment was a new addition. After the curse broke, PE got a lot more interesting than dodge ball at Storybrook Elementary.

David swung the sword and Neal ducked, trying desperately not to get a bone broken. It wasn't enough. The wooden plank made contact with the side of his head and he saw stars. If he kept getting hit in the same spot, those stitches weren't going to heal.

Out of the corner of his eye, Neal saw Henry sitting on a bench, watching. He didn't look too worried, though, and Neal couldn't help but wonder how many injuries the kid had gotten himself during one of these lessons. Considering Henry didn't seem to have any permanent damage, he was a lot tougher then Neal or a lot quicker…or both.

"You know David," he said grasping the wooden handle of the sword, blinking rapidly in a feeble attempt to brush away the stunning effects of the blow. "I haven't had much opportunity to learn swordplay."

Or in layman's terms, _go easy on me. I haven't exactly been doing this long._ David heard the underlying message, but something about the way he was smiling at him told Neal he was kind of out of his depth with this.

Or maybe that was just the way the man just naturally looked and David really didn't have that much against him anymore.

"It's simple: just try and stick the pointy the pointy end into the other guy." Neal took it back. David was enjoying this far too much for it to just be a training lesson in his eyes.

There was a snort from the bleachers and Neal looked over, but it didn't come from Henry. A boy with shaggy blond hair sat a little ways down from Snow and Henry and Neal could have sworn he had seen the boy before. It took him a minute to place him. He was the little boy that had been in the library the day Neal had explained just how much the curse had cost him.

But there was something different about him. No kid's eyes should be that dead. It was odd but the boy reminded Neal of himself, back when he was hurting too much to talk—back when no one would listen without trying to label him as seven levels of crazy.

"Mark, what are you doing here?" Henry asked. He wasn't trying to be rude, but the track fields behind the school seemed like kind of a random place for him to hang out. "Doesn't your mother usually have you in some after school activity or something?"

Mark blinked once, his fingers twitching around the cover of his book. "Why do you think I'm here? The last thing I want to do is be stuck in the same house with that cocksucker anymore then I have to."

Neal's eyes widened in surprise and he wasn't the only one. The kid was Henry's age; far too young to be thinking those things let alone saying them, and about his mother no less.

"What's a c—" Henry began in confusion.

"It's a bad word and something you don't need to say." Neal said quickly cutting Henry off.

"Why would you call your mother that?" Snow asked, clearly aghast.

The kid looked up and shrugged. "That's what she is." He muttered, his gaze returning to his book.

"But what does that mean?" Henry asked.

"Don't worry about it." Neal said. A slightly twisted part of him wanted to tell him to ask Emma. It would serve her right for the way she's been ignoring him lately. But he wouldn't do that. Besides, those weren't answers Henry needed just yet.

There was something unnerving in Mark's eyes and Neal wasn't sure what—there was defiantly an intelligence there, but the rest was a little harder to decipher, a well hidden pain or a not so hidden streak of madness…perhaps a combination of both.

He was either a very lost little boy or a psychopath in training and Neal wasn't sure which. It wasn't hard to see that Snow was worried about the boy and Neal couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with the curse breaking. If maybe he couldn't handle begin both.

With all the indignation of a fury freshly out of hell, a woman came stalking across the field. She was wearing a threadbare and dirty uniform from one of the other dinner in town and looked tired, like she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a long time, but there was a fire in her dark eyes that was striking.

"Damn it Mark," she hissed in a deep Southern accent, grabbing the boy by the arm and jerking him off the stands, "I do not work my fingers to the bone to give you every opportunity just to have you throw it in my face. Now get your sorry ass to you piano lesson."

Mark visibly shrunk, upset at her displeasure. His face was like an open book; equal parts hatred for the woman and equal parts desperate for any shred of affection she would give—waiting with bated breath for a single word of praise.

Something inside him wanted to help, to do something to fix the hellish mess the boy seemed stuck in, but Neal really had no clue what he could do. Neal had learned pretty quickly in the system that under most circumstances, nothing could be done if the parents weren't hitting the kids or molesting them, and, as horrible as the bitch was, there was no sign of any of that.

She stopped and looked around. When she saw just who her son was hanging out with, she smiled her face the perfect picture of southern hospitality. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out it was just a mask, but she didn't drop her charade in the hope that no one noticed her falseness.

She turned to Mark and smiled at him. "If you wanted to spend time with your friends all you had to do was ask. I suppose I could I could make an exception. Just please ask next time."

"Whatever," the kid sneered, brushing her off. "I don't want to hang out with these losers, anyways."

He grabbed his jacket and his book and walked away, his mother following him unable to hide her displeasure. A few seconds later the boy looked back, careful not to let his mother see and Neal had his answer. The kid wasn't psychotic; he was lost… at least for now. Who knows how long that would last with just the bitch in his life?

Mark was living the same life Neal had for the months between when Rumple had become the Dark One and when he had escaped. He knew the fear. How long would he have lasted if he had never gotten the bean? How long would it have taken him to lose his mind around the killings and the fear?

"I take it he's in your class?" David asked Snow, pulling Neal out of his thoughts.

She nodded.

"It's been particularly bad for him since the curse broke and he really needs a friend."

Neal couldn't deny the spark of pride at the glint in Henry's eyes at Snow's comment. Whether they liked it or not, Henry just found his next operation.

* * *

Neal walked around town with nothing to do. Emma was at work, Henry was at school, and he wasn't ready to approach Gold (which effectively ruled out hanging out with Belle). It was kind of pathetic, him just loitering around like a teenager and as interesting as this town was, he was still board out of his mind.

He needed to find a job but the thing was that this was a town of no change. Things here hadn't altered for so long and even when it did things were already ingrained into the people's identity that it didn't leave much room for outsiders. After the curse lifted everyone went back to either their Storybrooke or Enchanted Forest vocations and very little opportunity was left for those outside the fold.

Okay, that's not completely true. Besides Emma's family and a few of their friends, most people gave him a wide berth and he didn't need to phone a friend to figure out why. And honestly, Neal didn't blame them. He knew better than anyone what happened to those who got close to him…especially when his father was anywhere within a million miles of the incident.

A little girl with pigtails in a bright pink shirt came out of nowhere and shouted "Boo!"

Neal jumped in surprise. She couldn't have been more than about three and was far too young to be out on her own, but there was no adult in sight.

"Where'd you come from?" Neal asked, kneeling down and looking around for anything the might have been her prison. It didn't take long for him to put the pieces together.

An old woman came running out of a house, the yard strewn with far too many toys for it to be anything other than a daycare. She looked frizzled, like she had been looking for the child for far longer than her nerves could take.

"Mary!" she shouted, walking over and picking the little girl up. "There you are!"

"Sorry about that." She said, turning to look at Neal, "When the curse broke, Tina decided she wanted to start a restraint and now I'm left watching more kids then I know what to do with all alone."

She shifted the child on her hip and stuck out a hand. Neal took it and shook. "I'm Gerty, by the way."

"Neal."

Gerty turned and looked at the playground where three slightly evil looking children appeared to be trying to tangle another kid's hoodie in marry-go-round so that when they spun it, the momentum would take the child with it. Neal was impressed. He had always heard stories of adults having eyes in the back of their heads, but hadn't thought it true but there was no possible way Gerty had seen that through her peripheral vision.

"Paul, Catherine, Danny! You do not want to see what happens if I have to come over there," she said loud enough that they could hear her but was not shouting. The kids scattered like bugs, trying to get away from scene of the crime.

Gerty sighed. "The Burton kids are enough by themselves, but with the rest of them…but what am I saying, I have no business burdening you with this."

"It's nothing really." He was kind of glad for the chatter. He had been lonely in his isolation.

He glanced over at the playground and saw something curious. It was Mark sitting alone on a bench beneath bare tree, looking at a book far too thick for a third grader—the same book that had been glued to his hand every time Neal had seen him. There was a look of pain across his face as if every word cut deep into his soul…as if the book were written in his blood instead of ink.

Neal had been worried about him since the incident at the field and this just made it worse. His mother was a hard ass and the kid didn't seem to have anyone to talk to. No one to help.

"Hey Gerty," he said instinctual not giving his mind a chance to think it over, "I have nothing better to do today, if you need the help. I mean, I don't really have any experience with kids but…"

"At this point I'll take what I can get."

* * *

Because he was younger and Gerty was exhausted, Neal was on playground detail. Despite being in charge of making sure two dozen kids don't kill each other, he was having fun. Sure, some of the kids were hyper as fuck but all in all, they weren't bad kids as long as they were occupied.

And that was how he found himself with wood chips digging into his back as he laid on the ground letting the children cheer over the body of the ogre they had just slain.

He let them have their victory for a few seconds before pointing out their fatal flay. "Rawrr!" he hollered, reaching out to grab one, "You have to hit an ogre in the eye or it doesn't count."

The child closest to him, the Barton girl, smiled and punched him right in the eye.

"Oww!" he said, biting his lip to keep from saying a few choice words he knew the parents wouldn't appreciate, "I didn't mean literally."

Catherine had known that, but was playing dumb.

"Alright, time to come in." Gerty called from the doorway, having seen the whole little incident. They all filled in with only a little herding needed on Neal's part.

When all the kids were inside, Neal looked around doing one final check of the playground, but Mark hadn't moved. They looked eyes and without Neal having to say anything, the boy got up and walked towards the door.

He stopped beside Neal and he knew that Mark had been waiting for this opportunity, watching and waiting all of recess.

"How close do you think the stories are to the truth?" he muttered, holding his library book closer then Neal had ever seen Henry. Mark didn't look at Neal as he asked, his eyes never left the peeling paint of the door frame.

He didn't want to say anything—he didn't trust anyone enough for that—but he couldn't keep it all in anymore. Perhaps, Neal figured, that's what made a stranger the perfect person to tell.

Neal shrugged, unsure just what the kid needed to hear. Even though he made it a point not to lie unless he absolutely had to, there were some times when it was appropriate to bend the facts a bit. The only problem was that Neal was unsure which one this moment was.

"Depends. Pinocchio's is pretty close to the book but from what I hear, little red riding hood's really not the way mother goose told it."

The kid's mouth pressed, unpleased with the answer.

"Why?" Neal asked.

Mark's brow furrowed and he paused for a moment, deciding just how much he wanted to say.

"I don't want to be the kind of person the books say I will be."

Will be? That's interesting. But Neal knew not to push it. It was hard enough getting answers out of the kid as is. There was no need to make it worse.

"And what kind of person is that?" he asked, using an old con trick. If you keep the questions vague, the other person will more than likely fill in more blanks for you then if you got specific. It was a good trick to know when you were trying to pretend to be someone else, but Neal figured it would work just as well here.

"The kind my mother wants me to be."

Neal didn't have time to consider what that could mean before the kid continued. "The thing is, I used to dream that my dad would come and rescue me, even though I had only met him a handful of times and didn't even know it. I wanted to be the kind of son he would be proud of, but now that the curse is broken and I've read the stories, I realize that he's just as much of a bastard as she is…and the worst part of it all, is that in the stories, he's a hero."

Mark's voice had taken on a bitter tone that rang true to Neal in so many ways. He had been there before, when he first came to this world—when he first had to face just what kind of coward his father truly was—and so he could empathize with the kid. The saddest part of all this though, was that Neal had had more of a childhood before he had to beat away the bitterness. Mark was what, then? Neal had had four more years of innocence.

Neal knelt down and looked the boy in the eye, wanting to give him a piece of advice that had been the one thing to same Neal from the same dark path Mark was speeding towards. "Then do you know what you have to do, right?"

Mark shook his head.

"You have to be the kind of person you can be proud of and don't worry about anyone else."

Mark just stared at him, not saying anything for a moment and Neal wasn't sure he got it. After a while he just tilted his head to the side, considering, and walked inside.

"I saw that." Gerty said, coming up behind him.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" he asked, a bit self-conscious. Like he said before, he didn't have much experience with kids and he had been really trying not to fuck it up.

"No, you're right." She sighed. "I'm glad he has someone to look up to. I don't like to speak ill of people, but his mother is a piece of work."

Neal snorted. That was one way to put it.

"You did well with them…with all of them," she said, picking up an armful of toys out of the yard.

Neal smiled.

"How would you like a job?"

* * *

Neal walked into Grannies, half hoping to see Emma there eating, but he knew better. She wasn't due off of work for another hour and Henry should be busy taking care of his horse. He had stopped by the stables after the getting the job at the daycare. He hadn't stayed long though, the kid was upset and Neal could tell he needed some space.

The dinner, however, wasn't completely void of all his acquaintances. There, sitting at the bar was Regina. Good. From what Neal had heard she would need a friend right about now.

Neal sat down in the empty seat beside her, ignoring the eyes of the other patrons burning into his back and ordered a drink.

"So Henry told me about the fight."

Regina said nothing and just stared at the dark liquid in her glass.

"Want to tell me what it was about?" It was kind of forward of him to ask, but Neal wanted to hear her side of it before he made up his mind on which side of the fence he stood.

"I don't have to explain myself to you." Her words were harsh and a little slurred and Neal couldn't tell if it was out of depression or if it was because of the liquor. Probably both.

"Look Regina," he said taking a sip of his own drink, "I don't want to undermine your authority when it comes to Henry—it won't do any good. That's why I want to hear why you were so adamant that Henry not hang out with Mark before I gave him my two cents."

She looks at him and for a moment for a second and he was sure she was going to tell him to fuck off and refuse to tell him, but she thinks better of it and sighs.

"I don't know anything about the kid personally," she admitted, "but I do know his mother. Ann Malory is little more than a lying, manipulative witch whose ambition always gets the better of her. She is not a good person…"

"So I keep hearing." Neal muttered, causing Regina to give him a hateful look.

"I don't want Henry to have anything to do with her."

There was a beat of silence as he let this sink in. Neal got it; wasn't that supposed to be part of being a parent—keeping a kid safe sometimes meant keeping them away from bad influences—but there was a side of this Regina wasn't seeing and probably wouldn't have even if she were sober.

Neal had been that bad influence once and it had been horribly lonely.

"You know if everyone follows that kind of logic then Henry's damned to be a very lonely little boy."

She shot him a dirty look and he just shrugged.

"It's funny," she sneered, "you lecturing me about hypocrisy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Henry told me what you told him at Thanksgiving—about how it was cruel to make me watch from afar." There was a layered tone to her voice that Neal couldn't even begin to decipher. Part rage, part thankfulness, and part the hollowness of a completely shattered woman among a whole mixed bag of emotions.

"Yeah and?" Neal asked, confused.

"As much as I do enjoy watching Rumple suffer, it's really no fun seeing him as broken as he was at diner when you wouldn't even look at him."

Neal's stomach dropped. He had never thought of it that way and it hadn't been intentional; he just hadn't been ready to face him. It was far too early for him to address those things and yet he had been blaming Gold for not trying. Well fuck.

"I've only been here a week and I already know that you must be drunk to be defending the imp." It was a shameless attempt to steer the conversation away from his issues. Henry having the right to choose his own friends had nothing to do with where Neal stood in his relationship to Gold.

Regina looked down at her glass, considering his words as she swirled the liquid around the bottom. He could tell she knew he was right but she just shrugged and took another sip.

"He said he hated me."

"Henry?"

She nodded and Neal was surprised. That didn't sound like Henry.

"If he actually meant it, it wouldn't have hurt him so much."

That would explain how tore up the kid was when he went to visit. He hadn't been able to get more than a few sentences out of him which hadn't seemed like Henry at all.

"I'm just trying to do the right thing for him." Regina muttered into her glass. Neal half suspected he hadn't been meant to hear it, but he had.

"I know," he muttered, completely lost as what else.

He let the silence hang for a moment before changing the subject to something a bit less depressing…at least to Regina. "So is this kid's mom really that bad?"

She nodded.

"No wonder he's so miserable," he mutters thinking about their encounter on the playground.

He turned to Regina.

"You shouldn't be driving like this" he said, reaching into his wallet to pay for his drink. "You want a ride?"

* * *

For your information, I see Mark turning out as a slightly saner and sarcastic version of Tate from American Horror Story. I figured that would make a good contrast to Henry's goodness.

So for the contest: first person to guess the FTL identities of Mary, the Burton siblings, and Mark can get one BIG spoiler about the ending if they want it. Gerty's the little old lady who lived in a shew. Here's a hint: all of them are from Disney movies except Mark and the "story" he's from has already been introduced in the show…or at least one character from it.


	16. Fathers and Sons

A lot of people got the identities right. They are: Boo from Monsters INC, Lock Shock and Barrel from the nightmare Before Christmas, and Mordred from Arthurian legend. I haven't see the show Merlin or anything like that. The closest I've seen is the HBO series Camelot. It's just going to be a generic story rather than a crossover of anything in particular.

Since so many people guessed it here's the spoiler: someone(s) going back to FTL, and there might be a few surprises in store for them.

Also I want to give a big thanks to Noamg who has agreed to be the beta for this story. Now there shouldn't be any more complaining that my spelling and grammar sucks. Lol. You know I love you guys, right?

Enjoy.

* * *

Neal sat at the counter running his finger absentmindedly over the rim of his glass of juice. He had thought that having a drink would calm his nerves but orange juice was all the old man had and the thought of the acidy substance wasn't doing anything to calm his stomach.

He wasn't ready for this but it couldn't be avoided…not for too much longer. As much as it hurt to think about—as much as he would like nothing better than to ignore the fact that he and his father even lived in the same world—it wasn't going to work that way. Not now.

They had to find some sort of steady ground between them or they were bound to fall into the deep abyss surrounding them. A part of Neal would have been fine with that, but he knew if things between him and Gold imploded, it was bound to effect those around him—those he cared about—and he wasn't going to expose Emma and Henry to that.

Everything in him screamed for him to leave. To take the coward's way out, but things couldn't get better until they tried to fix them…and Regina was right. He could whine internally about how the old man wasn't doing anything, but the truth was that Neal hadn't given him an opportunity. He hadn't been ready. Hell, he still wasn't, but that didn't make it any less necessary.

And that is how he found himself sitting in Gold's kitchen with all the lights off, waiting for the old man to come home hopefully for an early lunch.

The door creaked and Neal knew it was show time. He hadn't called ahead, but he had left the front door cracked a bit to give the old man some sort of warning. It was all he could bring himself to do.

Gold entered the kitchen, tensed, clutching his cane, ready to swing it like a bat, but the moment he saw Neal sitting there, all apprehension dropped from his shoulders and was replaced by an odd combination of confusion and joy.

"Bae."

Inwardly Neal flinched at the word. He had forced himself to forget that name and all the pain it brought with it. Every good memory associated with it only made the bad that much worse like ground glass in an open wound. Hearing that name only brought all that to the surface but Neal didn't correct him; he wasn't letting this conversation go south already.

"I let myself in. I hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not."

Neal licked his lips, feeling his mouth suddenly go very dry.

"I figured we could…talk. If we want to move past this…" This was so awkward his skin was crawling and he was at a loss for words. The truth was that he wasn't even sure if he wanted to, but for all of their sakes Neal pretended otherwise. He pretended that reconciliation was at the top of his list rather than some sticky note stuck haphazardly to the page. "We've got to talk about this."

Gold nodded vigorously and sat down. Neal couldn't help but think that the old man's earnestness only made the awkwardness all the worse.

Neal took a deep breath. He didn't want to do this—he had never wanted to do this—but the truth was an antiseptic. No matter how much it stung to say or hear, it had to be said to keep something dark and ugly from festering in his heart.

"What were you thinking?" he asked, his voice small and his eyes wide. "Did you think you would come through at the same time I did and it would be like nothing had happened?"

That might not have worked even if it was how everything played out. Most of it had to do with the reason he had left in the first place. Although it had hurt like a bitch, the real pain hadn't come from being abandoned. It had come from something much worse.

"I just wanted to get back to you, Bae. I've spent every moment regretting not following you. I was trying to make it right…"

Neal closed his eyes and forced himself not roll them in indignation and pain. Gold's words cut into Neal's heart like glass, but that didn't change the fact that the old man didn't get it. He didn't understand what the true nightmare fuel was.

"I was terrified of you," Neal explained, each word a breath. He felt like he had been saying the same things over and over again, but that didn't make them any less true or any easier to say.

"What?" Gold asked, his eyes wide and his face broken and Neal couldn't help but be surprised. He had said the exact same thing in Gold's shop that day when he gave up the one secret he had never really wanted to. This wasn't news to the old man, but maybe he had been too shocked by the revelation to really let the words sink in before.

Maybe if Gold didn't act so fucking surprised by it all, it wouldn't feel like Neal was shoving daggers into his own chest with every word.

No part of Neal wanted the man to go back to how it was before—only pretending to listen, but not absorbing anything that he didn't want to hear—but at the same time he couldn't deny wishing it wasn't so easy…that it didn't feel like he was giving his father a list of impossible demands.

"After you became the Dark One, it was like I had lost my father. I tried talking to you, but it never worked. Maybe I wasn't saying it right or enough, or maybe you just didn't want to hear it," he swallowed, knowing how the next part would hurt his father, but it had to be said. It was a harsh truth, but one he had to say none the less, "but I honestly, thought I would have been safer in the trenches."

"You would have died!" There it was. The little bit of friction Neal had been praying for. Maybe now things would get easier. Maybe now he could take a sliver of pleasure in hurting the old man rather than letting his pain cut at Neal's own heart.

"Maybe." Neal spat, "Maybe not."

"I get why you did it," he sighed, not giving the conversation an opportunity to escalate into a fight. "Now more than ever."

Now that he had Henry in his life, he knew he probably would have done the same or worse to save the boy, but that didn't make it right. That didn't fix all the wounds branded deep into his soul.

"That doesn't change the fact that for those two months I was forced to live with a demon wearing my father's face."

There was such pain in Gold's eyes that Neal had to look away as he continued. He had to keep on. He had to keep saying it or the cancer would come back and consume them all.

"I had to keep reminding myself to call you papa because I was terrified of what would happen if I slipped up." It was another repetition. Another thing he shouldn't have to say again, and another thing Gold hadn't heard the first time.

The corners of his eyes stung and he could feel his throat tightening to an almost suffocating extent but he would not let himself cry…not in front of him…not now. Even if it would have been as cathartic as hell.

"I'm so sorry Bae. I never meant to disappoint you, I just…I never imagined you were so miserable."

Gold sounded so miserable and Neal could do nothing but curse him. He had no right to do this, to make Neal feel like the one who was at fault here when he had done nothing wrong. He wasn't the cruel one. He wasn't the monster. He wasn't the murderer. Then why did he feel so guilty?

Neal took a deep breath. Getting worked up like this was not going to make things any easier and he couldn't bear it if they got worse.

Gold didn't get it; he didn't see the real point behind all this, and so it was time to switch tactics. He understood now what had really happened to his papa when he had become the Dark One. Rumplestiltskin had traded his ability to empathize with others for the power to save what he cared about most and that, ironically, or perhaps tragically enough, had been what had cost him that very thing.

Now that he knew that, maybe Neal could do what he had tried to do since he was fourteen. Maybe he could finally put this all into terms his father could understand.

"What if it had been me that tried to save you?" Neal asked, looking him in the eye, daring him to imagine the reverse scenario—to see things from where he stood. It was the only way his papa would understand what he had truly done in his quest to fix everything. It was the only way he could understand how much he had fucked everything up.

"What if I had been the one to sell my soul to help you? What if you had been the one afraid of me and ran? And what if I had spent centuries looking for you but in the process had become everything you never thought I could be…if I had become some drug addicted serial killer? What if you had to live with the fact that it was all for you?" Neal's voice broke as he spoke the next words but he had to say them; they had been growing inside him since the moment he had heard of the curse and had only been festering since.

"What if you had to know that it was all your fault? That so many other people's lives were ruined all because you were the coward."

"Oh Bae," Gold breathed, the pain in his voice hurting Neal a thousand times more than telling his tale had. He tried not to let it show, to be strong, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep it up. This day — this singular moment with his father — left his soul raw and naked and freezing…but at the same time it was rather liberating. It had all been festering for so long; it was a relief to let the wound get some fresh air.

"Would you…would you rather I have never looked for a way to find you?" Gold said, completely unable to grasp the idea.

"Yes!" Neal said, not even bothering to keep the water form forming in the corners of his eyes. "How many lives did you destroy in the process? How many families did you put through the same hell we went thought?

"You should have let it all go. You should have settled down with Belle and been happy. That's what I would have wanted for you."

"But without the curse you would never have met Miss Swan." Gold muttered, and it had to sound just as feeble of an excuse to him as it did to Neal, but that didn't make the words any less sickening. And true.

In one swift movement, Neal slid out of his chair and took two giant steps away from his father, his body shaking in a fear he had never known. "T-t-tell me you didn't."

He had never stuttered before, but the words sent him shaking like someone in the process of freezing to death, and his voice quivered like a child waking from a nightmare. He could handle anything else — anything — but not this. Anything but this.

"Tell me that wasn't part of the curse. Tell me you didn't arrange that too." _Tell me it wasn't all fake. _But he didn't say the last part out loud, he couldn't bear it. David had brought this up once before, but Neal had pushed the thought deep down until he had all but forgotten it in the weeks since Emma had returned and he focused on making everything right with her. But now that he had to face the fact that it may not have been just an idle thought and maybe there had been nothing real to fix…

"No Bae. Even if I could, I never would have. Not to you."

Neal studied him, trying to decide if he could trust him and then decided it didn't matter. Gold could be lying, but if that was the case, Neal didn't want to know. Not about this. This is one lie he didn't need shattered…if it even really was a lie.

He slid to the floor, his back pressed against the cabinet and even he couldn't tell if the odd noise he was making was a laugh or a cry. Probably both. "Then fate's got one hell of a sense of humor."

Gold took a step forward, wanting desperately to comfort his son but unsure if the gesture would be welcomed. It wasn't. Neal felt like something inside him was breaking, and he couldn't tell if it were a good thing or not. He was hurting too much to care.

The phone rang but no one answered. The moment was too intimate and too necessary to be disturbed, and besides, wasn't that what answering machines were for?

"Look Gold," Emma sounded worried, and Neal immediately picked his head up. If she was trying that hard to reach him — if she had gone as far as to call his father — something was up. Something big. "I know this is a long shot, but is Neal over there? It's important and his phone is off…"

Neal picked it up, almost terrified of what he would hear. He just couldn't handle any more today.

"Hey Em, what's up?" he asked, not completely able to hide the hoarseness of his voice. He knew she heard, but true to Emma, she went straight for the reason she called and he was grateful.

"Is Henry with you?"

A cold trickle of déjà vu shot down his spine. This wasn't the first conversation they had recently that began with those words.

"Er…no. Shouldn't he be at school?" he said, ignoring his father listening in to the half conversation he could hear.

"Should being the key word. Regina put him on the bus but he didn't make it to class."

Neal took a breath and gave voice to the fear eating at his stomach. "You don't think that witch got him again, do you?"

"It looks like he just skipped, but I need to be sure. When I get my hands on that boy…." Emma trailed off and Neal really didn't have to work too hard to fill in the gaps on that one.

"You and me both. Alright, I'll help look for him, but keep me updated."

* * *

Neal hadn't wanted to accept the spell from his father, but he hadn't resisted when offered. Gold had seemed so earnest, and Neal had been to emotionally exhausted to refuse. Besides, this was the fastest way to find Henry and he needed to know where the kid was, needed to know if he was safe. Regina could have probably done a tracking spell—hell, for all he knew she probably was—but Gold had insisted and Neal didn't want to fight. Not over this; not when he was making some effort (even if it was with magic) to help.

It was a good thing he had taken it, too. Somehow, Henry had wound up walking alone across town, walking along the road towards Main Street; miles away from any place he had any business being.

Neal pulled the car over and flung the passenger's side door open.

"Get in." he said, anger seeping into every letter, and Henry had to knowhe was in for it.

No one spoke for the first few miles, as Neal tried to get a hold of himself. He could yell and scream at the boy as much as he wanted to, but considering they had only known each other a few weeks, it probably wasn't the best way to start a father-son relationship.

"What were you thinking?" he hissed, his voice still tight.

"I'm sorry." Henry's voice was small and heartbreaking and Neal couldn't help but wonder if the kid was playing him, calling on his sympathies to get himself out of trouble. Neal had done the same to his father when he was a kid, but that didn't fix anything. Not now.

"Look kid, I don't really care if you go to school or not, but your moms do, and I'm going to back them on this one," he sighed, getting to the real issue here, "We just need to know where you are. When you got grabbed by that witch, it took us two hours to even realize that you were missing. Who knows what could have happened?"

Henry looked down at the book perpetually in his lap and Neal couldn't help but feel bad for giving him a hard time...whether or not he was being played. Maybe instead of yelling at him, he should find out what was going on.

"Is there something going on at school that I need to know about? Someone making fun of you or something?" Neal asked, at a loss at what else it could be.

"No, nothing like that."

Henry wasn't lying, per se, but he wasn't exactly telling the truth either.

"Henry."

Henry looked up at Neal's tone and sighed. "Most people don't want to hang out with me because their scared of my mom," _and your dad,_ Henry left the last bit unsaid but Neal was good at reading between the lines, "but that's nothing new."

"Then why don't you want to go?"

Henry looked at him and Neal knew he wouldn't like the answer. The kid was worried about what he would think, and that's why it was so difficult for him to say.

"I wanted to talk to the blue fairy about something…" he muttered almost guiltily.

And he couldn't have done it after school? Neal was getting more and more uncomfortable about this.

"What was it?"

Henry was silent and Neal really didn't have the patience left for this. The conversation with his father had emotionally drained him of just about everything, and the kid's games weren't helping.

"Come on kid, you've got to tell me if you want me to understand."

Henry licked his lips. "I want to learn magic."

Neal slammed on the breaks so fast he was surprised they didn't go flying through the windshield of his stolen Nissan. He turned to look at the kid, slowly, his head twisting like something out of an old horror movie.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. How much more would magic take from him? How much more would it corrupt?

"Are you crazy? Why would you want to do something stupid like that?"

Henry jerked back like he had been physically struck and Neal immediately felt like an ass. But shouldn't Henry understand what magic turned people into better than just about anyone else?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled." He said taking a breath and forcing all the anger to leave his voice as he started the car again, "It's just that I've seen what magic does to people—what it turns them into, and you've seen it, too. I don't want that for you. Please explain why the hell you would want that."

"When Cora had me, it didn't matter if I could use a sword. She even threw grandpa across the room and he's the best swordsman in Storybrooke."

"So what, you want magic for revenge?" That didn't sound like the kid at all. In fact, it sounded more like something Neal would hear from his father rather than his kid, and that made it all the worse.

Henry shook his head, the hurt still evident on his face as he explained himself to his newfound father. "I just want to be able to protect the people I care about…and learning how to fight won't be enough."

"But the cost…" Neal whispered.

"That's why I went to see the Blue Fairy. I wanted to know if she could teach me good magic," he said imploring Neal to understand. Neal looked over at the kid, equal parts proud and terrified. At least the kid was smart enough to find out if it was even possible before jumping in to it, but at the same time Neal couldn't help the horrible sinking fear of the answer from flowering in the bottom of his gut. If she had said no, it would crush the boy and lift a great burden from Neal's heart. If she said yes, the situation would be reversed, and it would be Neal that broke into pieces.

"She said she couldn't teach me how to use fairy magic."

Was it wrong of him to be thankful, despite the disappointment he knew Henry felt?

"But that there were good magicians in Storybrooke who might be willing to help." The boy continued and Neal's heart fell.

"Henry—" he began but the boy cut him off, practically begging him to understand.

"She said that it's not the magic itself that makes them sick, it's how they use it."

"Magic is a drug." Neal said, his face tight and his fingers just as tight around the steering wheel. He didn't want to have this conversation…he didn't want to have to face this horror.

"But not like the ones you see on TV—not the bad ones," Henry said, every inflection begging Neal to understand just as much as Neal wanted the boy to see his side of it all. "It's more like the pills Dr. Whale gives people. As long as you use them at the right times and in the right amounts, it's fine…it can even be a good thing."

There was no denying that the boy had done his homework with this, but Neal still didn't like it. Neal turned off the car and sighed.

"Are you mad?" Henry asked

Neal rubbed his temple, exhausted. "No I'm not. I just…can we discuss this later? You need to get to your afternoon classes."

"Fine." Henry mutters, and Neal couldn't tell if the kid was the one mad at him or not. Whatever. If he was he would just have to get over it. Neal may be new to this whole fatherhood thing, but he did know at least the basics of what it meant. His first priority was to keep Henry safe, and letting him play around with magic wasn't the way to do that.

As Henry got out the car, Neal looked over and saw a flash of silver in the console between the seats. A flash of inspiration struck and a wicked grin spread across his face. Maybe it would be a little mean, but it was one way to make sure Henry learned his lesson about staying in school.

It only took a few moments for them to stop by the office and sign the kid in. Something about the way Henry carried himself told Neal that the kid half-expected that to be it—that Neal wouldn't walk him all the way to his class. As if. The kid wasn't getting off that easily. Not by far.

"You know Neal, you don't have to walk me to my desk." Henry says as he sat down. Luckily for him, his classmates were just now beginning to trickle in from lunch or recess so only a few were here to witness what happened next.

"Yeah I do," Neal muttered and with one swift motion he took the handcuffs out of his pocket and slipped one end around Henry's wrist and the other end around the metal bar connecting his desk to the chair.

He supposed technically he should have given them back to Emma or David after breaking out, but with all that had been going on, it had kind of slipped his mind. With how quite this town was, he was probably putting the damn things to better use anyways.

"Aw…really?" Henry muttered, shaking his chains like he couldn't believe that Neal actually did that.

Mark looked on, watching the scene. The moment the chains started rattling, he started laughing so hard he fell out his chair. He wasn't the only one to see the amusement in the situation. Snow had a knuckle pressed against her mouth to keep the chuckles from escaping.

Good. Neal hadn't intended to make a show out of it, but if it helps the message stick…

"Well, I've got to make sure you're where you're supposed to be somehow, right?" Neal said smiling as he walked to the door.

"Oaky, I get it. You can let me go," Henry said as if it would actually convince Neal to undo the lock.

Neal ignored him and stopped walking just long enough to toss the keys to Snow. "Just in case."


	17. Impass

Sorry for the wait. "The Road Trip" ate my imagination and I have been having to give away plot bunnies so fast I can't keep up (really, I'm beginning to see why they are called bunnies).

Here's one begging for a good home if anyone is interested in pulling out their own heart to feed it:

It's a typical Manhattan speculation scenario— Gold calling in his favor to go find Nealfire and all that. One big difference: Although Emma's kiss broke the spell, it wasn't in time to save Henry and he died because of the apple turnover. Now how is it going to be when Emma has to face Neal while she's still hurting over Henry's death? When all she can think about is how much Neal reminds her of what she has lost? And what about Gold? How is he going to react given his role in the situation?

As always thanks to my awesome beta Noam, who is the biggest bowl of soup around. Lol.

Enjoy.

* * *

"Hey Neal, can I talk to you?" Gerty asked, and Neal knew it couldn't be good. He had been working for her for about a month, and had never heard that tone. A part of him knew what was going to happen; really, the list of things that could put that half sad and half embarrassed tone in the elder woman's voice was pretty short, and the most likely candidate was something he had been expecting for a while now.

Sighing, he put the arm load of discarded toys into the toy box, and followed her into the hallway, careful to keep the kids in his line of sight. Some of them could be damn tricky, and the Burton siblings especially took deep pleasure in making as much mischief as possible.

"Listen, there have been some complaints."

"'Bout what?" He hadn't heard anything. No one mentioned any abnormal playground roughness or teasing or anything like that. Neal couldn't place his finger on it, but he knew that whatever was going on had little to do with the kids.

Gerty shifted and sighed, clearly uncomfortable with what she had to say. "You."

Neal tilted his head to the side, confused.

"It's nothing personal," she began, and those three words explained everything; for the first time the conversation actually made since to him.

"It's my old man." He filled in for her, saving her from having to say the truth aloud.

She nodded. "At first I told them there was nothing to worry about, but then they started withdrawing their kids."

He had noticed the dropping number of kids, but never made the connection. Four kids in the last month hadn't seemed so bad—after all, this town was rapidly changing as people tried to find an equilibrium between their Storybrooke lives and what their lives were in the Enchanted Forest. Neal had just figured their home situations had changed and that's why they weren't coming. He had no idea that it was about him.

"And you can't have a business without customers." He muttered.

She gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. You're so good with them, and I hate doing this."

"Don't worry about it. Hell, I'd do the same in their shoes."

"Really?" she asked, clearly seeing through his bullshit.

"Probably not, no." he admitted. Maybe if it had never been _his _father that became the Dark One and he had just been another boy in the neighborhood, but he understood too well now what it was like being judged by those around you, to do it to anyone else. Just because someone is related to evil doesn't make them evil themselves…necessarily. "But I get it, really, I do."

"I just hate leaving you shorthanded like this." With him gone it would be just her against over a dozen kids and, as good as she was with them, those odds were a little more than overwhelming. Hell, it was still a challenge with both of them.

"Actually, I've already taken care of that."

"You have?" He didn't bother hiding the hurt in his voice—the first real betrayal in this painful conversation. It would have been nice if she would have mentioned that before she fired him. Maybe gave him a bit of time to look for something else, because apparently, she had been thinking of this for a while now…at least long enough to have already found his replacement.

But he let it go. As much as Neal hated to admit it, there was a slight undercurrent of fear in her voice and, once again, he knew it had nothing to do with him.

"Buzz and Woddy seem like nice guys. Apparently, in their world they were toys." Her words were egger, like she was trying to reassure him, but he had a feeling she was more likely trying to ease her own guilt. Neal hadn't known her long, but it was long enough to know that she wouldn't be doing this unless she thought she had to. She just wasn't that kind of person.

"Toys? As in children's playthings?" Neal was surprised, but he really shouldn't have been. Just because he hadn't heard that one before didn't mean it hadn't existed. The other realms were often funny places; for all he knew, there were still stranger things out there.

She nodded.

"Didn't see that one coming." He ran his hand through his hair, "Listen Gerty, thanks."

Now it was her turn to look confused and him to explain. "For being straight with me. Too many people would have just made up some bullshit excuse rather than admit this was about him."

She shifted.

"I feel horrible for asking, but I have to know. Is this going to be a problem?"

Neal's stomach dropped. He hated that she had to ask, but he didn't blame her for it. As the Dark One or as Gold, the old man had kind of terrorized everyone.

It still sucked, though, and it wasn't the first time he had encountered those kinds of attitudes in the weeks since his connection to Gold had been exposed to the other people in Storybrooke. If it hadn't of been for Emma and Henry, he would have taken off a long time ago, because in a lot of ways this town was like being stuck back in those hellish months. Gold hadn't killed anyone—that Neal knew of—but the fear was still there.

After their talk—the one when Neal had broken into the old man's kitchen—things had started to get better. They would meet for lunch occasionally or he would stop by the shop. It wasn't the same as before though. Instead of the easy conversation they used to have, Neal kind of felt the people on TV when they had to visit some old and distant relatives. The ones that were far too friendly for comfort but that no one complained about to their face out of politeness.

For the most part their conversations had just been small talk. Neal had stopped mentioning his past; he had quickly gotten tired of Gold's apologies and the old man had thankfully understood that Neal didn't want to hear about what he had been up to all these years. Neal was trying to make all this better and that couldn't work if he kept getting reminded of the man Gold had become. Besides, the deeds were done and there was nothing more Neal could do to fix it. Developing a masochistic streak would do nothing but break him.

That didn't mean Neal was oblivious to the truth. He heard the whispers of the kind of monster his father had become—a monster a hundred times worse then he had been in the village. He had seen it himself before Gold had known of his identity.

There was another truth that few others saw. Even he had to tilt his head and squint his eyes to see it, but he knew it wasn't a mirage.

His Papa was there, but buried so deep he might as well be back in their land. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he and Belle were beginning to pull him closer to the surface. But no one else saw that…no one else had reason or opportunity, and Neal didn't hold it against them at all. It was a painful process that Neal wouldn't even have bothered with had he not been stuck here with everyone else, even though he wasn't bound by the curse.

"He and I may be on slightly better terms then when I got here, but we're hardly confidants. As far as he knows there's a million different ways a job doesn't work out. If he asks, I'll make something up."

* * *

For the second time since coming to Storybrooke, Neal found himself wondering the streets alone and bored. Henry was at school, Emma was at work, and, as much he was trying to patch things up with his dad, he really didn't want to deal with that right now…which kind of ruled out the library as well.

It was times like this that he wished he wasn't so pathetically isolated. The only people here who would talk to him were either related to him or his ex. The kids had been the only ones who didn't really seem to care that his father was a douchbag, but their parents had, and now he didn't even have that job. Hell, he would even have settled for—

"Long time no see."

Neal looked around, unsure just where the voice had come from despite recognizing it. He shouldn't be surprised to have found himself walking past Gepetto's shop. It was a small town with few sidewalks, and he hadn't really been paying much attention—his mind had been elsewhere, and it wasn't as if he was going to get mugged here or anything.

"You mean since I punched you in the face?"

August shrugged, almost unconcerned. "It wasn't entirely unwarranted."

"You think?" Neal deadpanned. Of all the shit in his life he had to be angry about, this burned in a unique way. Perhaps because a part of him had once hoped they could somehow be friends—the two lost boys from their world—someone he could talk to without sounding like a complete lunatic.

Or perhaps it was because this trespass wasn't against him. It was against Emma. Maybe if she had had that money, then she could have kept Henry…then August's plan and Neal's actions wouldn't have ripped her heart a second time. But then she wouldn't have had a reason to come to Storybrooke and break the curse.

It was just all so fucking fucked up.

"Want to head over to Granny's?" August said, motioning around the corner.

It was odd how easy conversation came, especially given how Neal had about twenty thousand reasons to hate him. Neal shrugged. He had nothing better to do, and hadn't he just been internally complaining that he didn't have enough people to hang out with in this town? If he could get past all the shit his father's pulled…

"Last I heard you had a job," August muttered, falling into step beside him, "why aren't you there?"

"Got fired."

"That sucks. What did you do?"

Neal's head whipped around. "What made you think I did anything?"

August just gave him an 'oh really' look that could have given Emma a run for her money. Neal replayed the words in his head before he realized that _fired _tended to have certain connotation of guilt.

"I was born."

"So were most people. You're going to have to be a bit more specific."

Neal rubbed the back of his neck, already tired of this conversation. "Let's just say that apparently there are several parents in Storybrooke who aren't exactly comfortable letting their kids be watched by Rumplestiltskin's son…first born or otherwise."

It was painful to make such a reference to the stories of what his father had become in his absence, but Neal was trying not to run from it. If he could get to the point where he could make jokes about it—awkward or not—then maybe the thoughts wouldn't hurt quite so much. He wasn't there yet. Not by far. But it was a start, Right?

"So what are you going to do?"

"I have no idea. It just happened."

He was probably going to come across a similar problem in just about any place here. Neal knew he could always see if Gold had a spot at the pawn shop opened—hell, the old man would probably make one up if he had to—but he wasn't going to do that. It was kind of sad, but he would rather be living back in his car then ask him for help. He couldn't handle that. Although things had gotten better, they weren't that good just yet.

August shifted a bit, as if he were thinking about something. "I heard you're pretty good at drawling."

Neal stopped and turned to look at him in surprise and disbelief. "How did you know that?" His art was something privet—something even Emma didn't know. A way for him to deal with the horrible shit in his life he hadn't ever really been able to talk about. He wasn't going to burden her with that.

"I hear things," August had that impish grin again, and Neal's stomach churned.

Only his father knew he had any talent in that department. Before things got ugly—back when Neal was still just Bae—his father had supported it, even when it seemed to remind him too much of his departed wife. Back when he was still his Papa, Gold would do his danmedest to keep him in colored inks and paper, even though Bae had never asked for those luxuries. The only thing he had ever asked in return was for a single self-portrait. A horribly inaccurate thing that had gotten left behind when Neal had come through.

A part of him wondered if the old man still had it, but another was sounding warning bells. Few here had even known Gold had a son until Neal had shown up. Somehow he doubted the old man would be passing out random facts to virtual strangers.

"What are you, the termite whisperer?"

"No. What I am is a writer with connections in the publishing industry… an industry that is always on the lookout for new cover artist or illustrators and such. From what I hear, the pay isn't bad, and you wouldn't have to leave Storybrooke."

Neal stopped and looked at him. In all his years of being alone, of moving from one job to the next with no education and home, he had never really thought of using the one talent he had to make money. Maybe it had just been too linked to his nightmares for him to ever consider allowing it to hit the light of day.

"Why are you doing this?" Neal asked. It wasn't unfair of him to be suspicious of the puppet's motives…not after all the shit he's pulled.

"That's what friends do." August said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but Neal could hear the truth. There was a deeper meaning behind it all, and it took him a moment to find it.

"You just can't say it, can you?" Neal started laughing, surprisingly not pissed.

"What?" August's honest confusion just made it all the funnier.

"You can't apologize."

August shifted uncomfortably, and Neal had to decide if he wanted a half-hearted and meaningless lie or to let it all be left unsaid. The puppet wasn't sorry for what he did. He had twisted it all to the point where he convinced himself he did nothing wrong.

Neal sighed. He wasn't pissed about the money, just what it had cost Emma, and that meant it wasn't his place to say anything to August. He needed to square it all away with her.

"I got a question for you," he said, changing the subject before August said something that made Neal want to punch him again, "How come when I told my dad who I was, he thought it had something to do with something you might have told me?"

"I, er…" Neal stared him down. It was supposed to be a throw away question, something he had wondered, but never thought was a big deal. Not until he saw the puppet's discomfort at being asked. There was something here, and it wasn't something he was going to let August get out of telling him. Not this time.

"I sort of kind of pretended to be you when I first got here."

Neal's eyes went wide. "Why the hell would you do a thing like that?"

It was an odd thing. As rocky as things still were between him and Gold, he still didn't like the idea of someone using the memory of what the old man held dearest against him. It was like if Neal wasn't going to be Bae, then the boy should be buried, not used as some play mask for a puppet's performance.

August shuffled. "I was turning to wood, and he was the best shot at magic around. If I had asked as me, there's no way I would have gotten it."

Neal rubbed his forehead and leaned his back against the wall. He shouldn't be surprised, really he shouldn't; he may not have spent all that much time with August over the ten years that he had known him, but it had been long enough to know that's just the kind of man he was.

But he couldn't deny that there was an underlying humor to the whole situation.

"And he bought that?" he asked, not even raising his head to look at August.

"For a while." Neal could _hear _the corners of the puppets mouth twitch upwards.

"How did you even know what to say?"

Gold was not a stupid man; he never had been, not really. For that ploy to have worked—even for a little bit—August had to have been at least half way decent at the con. It was too delicate a situation to go into without any real information. The slightest wrong detail could be what sent the entire house of cards falling around him, and the truth would have sent Gold into such a rage, Neal was honestly surprised the puppet wasn't kindling at the moment.

August gave a heaving sigh, dramatic as ever.

"Do you remember after we turned Emma in?"

Neal looked up, his eyes narrowed. What the hell kind of question was that? How could he forget? Every second of that night was forever burned into his mind.

"Of course," he hissed.

"You got completely shit faced, and I think you told me more about what happened then you intended."

Neal groaned. He hadn't meant to get so plastered that night, but, given the givens, it had seemed appropriate. As much as he couldn't forget what led him to drink that night, he sure as hell couldn't remember much of the sweet oblivion he had needed so much, especially after he had went to get the car.

It had been their home, and in it was every tiny reminder of their lives together…and every reminder of what he had just done, what he had just destroyed with one phone call. He had half hoped that the cops would get him somehow. All it would take was one tiny traffic violation and they would have him. He would go to prison where he belonged, instead of her.

But either he hadn't been as bad of a driver as he had wanted to be or he just got lucky. No one pulled him over. No one called him out on his actions. He was left to drown in his freedom, so he drowned it in beers.

Figured Booth would be the kind of drinking buddy to stay sober enough to use whatever drunken mumblings he heard to his advantage later.

"Servers him right," Neal muttered, looking at August, "it's not like we even look the same."

"That's what I said."

Neal opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get a word out, a resounding boom shuttered through the town like a bomb had gone off. Windows rattled and shook, but nothing actually fell. August looked at him as if Neal would somehow know what was going on. He didn't, but there was one way to find out.

They weren't the only ones running towards the noise. Most of the town was either taking up rubber-necking as a hobby or afraid that Cora was invading…or something along those lines.

A car came speeding around the corner like something out of the Dukes of Hazard, sirens blaring. It was an impressive bit of driving, but Neal didn't stop to admire it. There was a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach as he got closer and closer to the dark blue Victorian marked in the skyline by a gigantic pillar of black smoke. That explained what had Emma in such an exceptional rush.

As much as Neal hadn't liked it, in the end had hadn't been able to stop Henry on his quest to learn magic. He had wanted to…god, had he wanted to. But between Henry's earnestness, the reassurances of Blue and the fact the Emma herself could do magic (Neal didn't know much about that, and didn't really want to ask at this point) there hadn't been much he could do.

It had been decided, though, that Regina probably wouldn't have been the best teacher for him. It had hurt her deeply to be excluded, but eventually she had understood. If magic was a drug, then having her involved would be like having an AA member trying to teach someone how to make moonshine: asking for trouble.

There were other magic users in the town that could help. The one time someone had suggested Gold be that person, Neal had put his foot down (thankfully the old man hadn't been at that meeting). As much as things had begun to get better between them, Neal still didn't trust him. It was a harsh truth and a painful one, but a truth none the less. If Henry HAD to mess with magic, Neal didn't want him anywhere close to the Dark One's power.

The thing about being one of the big players for good on the board was that the Blue Fairy knew pretty much everyone. She was able to put them into contact with someone who could teach him good magic—someone she apparently knew for a very long time and had a lot of trust in.

Someone who happened to live in a particular dark blue Victorian.

When he realized which house was going up in smoke, he sped up, leaving August in the dust. He pushed his way through the crowd, and came across a welcomed sight. There, sitting on the curb next to two other figures, was Henry. He was dirty and completely covered in soot, but otherwise fine.

Emma, however, was livid.

"What the hell happened?" Emma yelled, getting right up in Merlin's face. She had shooed away the crowd, but somehow that wasn't reassuring. Now she could commit the murder that was written all over her face, and there would be a lot less witnesses around to complain.

Merlin looked at her, his eyes perfectly impassive under his small, round glasses, and shrugged. "A mishap with magic. It happens occasionally when one is learning the craft."

"Are you saying Henry did this?" Neal asked, coming up behind him.

This wasn't exactly making him feel better about this magic thing. Besides being addictive, it was dangerous, and his eleven year old kid was playing around with it?

"No," Merlin said, pointing to the other soot covered figure as he used the only clean corner of his vest to clean the lenses.

"I didn't know you were teaching Mark as well." Neal said, his voice not quite casual.

The wizard narrowed his eyes slightly. "I wasn't."

"I just decided to drop in," Mark replied with a smile before he turned to Merlin. His voice took on a poisoned honey tone that told Neal there was defiantly more here than just what it appeared. "You need to fix the roof, by the way."

"Now I do, yes." It was such a small thing, but Merlin hadn't looked at the boy since Neal had got here. It was like he was trying his hardest to pretend he didn't exist at all…or maybe Mark just wasn't worth his time. He had shown a professional-like interest in Henry, but Henry had magic. And honestly, Neal wasn't sure why he had agreed to teach the kid, anyways. Did Blue call in a favor or something' or was there more to it than that?

It was impossible to say.

Neal was good at reading people; he had had to be, to survive in this world, but even as he studied the other man, he got nothing. The Wizard might as well have been written in Greek for all Neal knew. He just stood there looking like some professor's assistant with a poker face right out of the professional circuit.

Emma looked at Mark, surprised and a little disappointed. The kid had stuck to Henry like glue and Emma had grown somewhat attached.

"If that were the case, then the house itself would have reacted much more violently."

"You don't call that violent?" Emma shrieked, motioning to the black pillars rising from the house. It was a little twisted, but with all the tension between him and Emma lately, it was kind of nice to see her go of on someone else.

"Not particular, no." Merlin deadpanned, snapping his fingers.

"Cool." Henry muttered as the house instantly put itself right.

Mark just gave an unimpressed little humph and Emma's attention turned to him, back in sheriff mode.

"And you, what were you doing on his roof?"

Mark looked at her, his face just as impassive as Merlin's, and gave a charming little smile, the ones sociopaths give—completely endearing and just as false.

"I had nothing better to do today, so I decided to crash the party."

Even Henry wasn't buying it, but he didn't say anything.

Emma knelt down until she was face to face with the boy. "You know, I have a superpower—"

"You can tell when someone's lying. I've heard." Mark finished her thought, his voice carefully flat and uninterested, "It's a good thing I'm not lying, then."

There was a moment of a silent staring contest, and for a second Neal was sure she was going to make a big deal out of it and take the boy down to the station. Merlin must have thought the same because he stepped in on Mark's behalf rater quickly.

"No harm was done. There's really no reason to make a scene."

She stared at him in the same way she had stared at the boy, measuring, before making her choice.

"Alright." She said, looking down at Mark, "I'll let it go, but you have to tell me the truth about what's going on."

Mark shifted, and for a second Neal was sure he was going to tell her no, that he'd rather go to jail, but he mumbled a few words, and he was sure he couldn't have heard the boy right.

"What was that?" Emma asked, just as unsure.

"You're stupid." He said, not looking Emma.

"Mark!" Henry chastised, eyes wide. "Why would you say that?"

Neal wasn't the only one to hear the hurt in Henry's voice. In the month or so Mark had been friends with Henry, Neal had learned one important fact. Underneath all that early onset teenaged angst and darkness he coated himself in, Mark was a good kid and cared for Henry greatly. I had to kill him to hear Henry so wounded at his words.

"He's not a good guy and you shouldn't let Henry anywhere near him," he said, not looking at his friend. "He tried to kill me."

Emma shifted so that she was between the boys and Merlin before looking at the man for an explanation.

The wizard didn't seem disturbed or surprised at the allegation. He just tipped his head back and laughed as if the situation was genuinely full of humor.

"Is that what your mother told you?"

"She didn't have to," Mark screamed, his eyes practically on fire, "I can read."

Merlin's head snapped down to look at the boy, perhaps the first time that day the wizard's eyes didn't just gaze past Mark as if he didn't exist. Merlin's eyes held an identical look of fury as he replied, hissing the words. "But apparently you are unable to tell the difference between fantasy and reality. Did it not strike you as peculiar that a great deal of what happens in that book takes place when you are older? And if I remember correctly, ends in both yours and Arthur's deaths? Seeing as how neither of those events has taken place, did you ever consider that some of the other events could be just as false?"

"I'm not stupid," Mark replied, his voice only slightly sarcastic, "but who the hell do you expect me to get the truth from? You? The whore? Pendragon himself? I don't think so. At least this way I don't wind up trusting someone who would be willing to kill me."

"Well then, it would seem you've reached an impasse. You're not going to look for the truth, although you hate the falsehood you cling to."

"Whatever keeps me alive."

There was a moment of silence as Emma absorbed the oddness of the situation. She wasn't the only one.

"Alright," Neal said, breaking up the staring contest between the two, "Mark, get in the curser. Emma will drive you home."

Emma shot him a dirty look, but didn't protest. Mark on the other hand…

"Do I have to?" He began, but stopped when he saw the look on Emma's face.

"Now." she said, motioning to the car. Emma's eyes met Neal's, and the steel in them hurt him. From the time he had gotten to finish his story—finish explaining to her just why everything went to hell, she had been running hot and cold with him. Some days it was almost like they could be friends…hell, some days he got the fleeting idea that they could even be more than that. But other days, it was like she wanted to rip his head off. Her anger was a hundred times worse than anything he could remember.

As much as her mood swings were giving him whiplash, he didn't dare wish she would pick a side. With his luck, he wouldn't like her selection.

"Henry, you too."

Even the boys noticed the sharpness in her voice, but they didn't say anything—probably too scared of her right now. As much as the truth of the situation killed him, the hurt on Henry's face as he got in the car was worse.

This had to stop…somehow. Neal was an adult. He could take her hating him, even if it was turning him to ribbons inside. The kid, on the other hand… it wasn't fair to put him in a situation like this where he felt he had to choose between parents. Hadn't this been what Neal had been trying to avoid when Regina had tried to talk to him back when Emma was still away? The last thing he had ever wanted is for Henry to be in the middle of this.

Tomorrow they would talk, him and Emma. It didn't matter if he had to handcuff her to him if that's what it took to get her to listen. This hot and cold shit had to end.

But that was all tomorrow. Now it was time to track down August and see if he was serious about that job.


	18. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Hey guys. Here's something to hold you over till the hiatus is done. I'm sorry it took so long, but I had this and the next chapter about 70% done before I realized that it needed to be split into two chapters.

Also, just to let you know, it's gets a little spicy towards the end. No, it's not smut, but I do have the first of two smut scenes coming up in about four chapters give or take. So enjoy the "T" rating while it lasts. Lol.

I will have another fic up by the end of the week. It's a Harry Potter project I started working on about six months ago but didn't post on (the HP section is so flooded nobody would see it, hence the need for the shameless plug).

It's called Those People and here's the summary:

One mistake shattered James's world. Seven years later, his ex is thrown back into his life, along with the son he never knew existed. Once again, his life is inverted and between sorting out his own feelings of love and hatred towards her, dealing with the hounding press, and coming to realize that there just may be something …off…about Alex, James may just wonder if he is in over his head.

It starts out a classic "didn't know he had a kid" kind of stories and then morphs into something that's three parts Harry Potter, two parts American Horror Story, and one part OUAT.

Anyways, thanks again to the beautiful Noam who bated this for me.

Enjoy lovelies.

* * *

Neal sat, saying nothing. Emma was on a rampage and he was smart enough to know there was nothing he could do to quell her rage even if he wanted to. Besides if there was one thing he had learned since Henry had started taking magic lessons from the town's white magician, it's that Merlin was one chill motherfucker. He could take it and honestly it was rather amusing to watch Emma vent on someone completely uninterested in expressing any emotion.

"What do you mean you can't help us? Magic is what you do, isn't it?"

His pen stilled and Merlin looked up from his Sudoku. "Usually yes, but severing the spell on you two would not be the best choice."

Emma's eyes flashed and Neal ducked down a little, as if Merlin's oversized couch cushions could save him from the onslaught of anger, even though it wasn't directed at him.

"And why not?" She hissed, crossing her arms and taking a step forward as if she was ready to really get into his face. Merlin gave no sign that he noticed as he continued his puzzle.

"Magic one oh one Miss Swan," he murmured, somehow managing to sound both condescending and not at the same time, "Magic is to be treated like a drug which means it is to be used sparingly unless you wish to turn into House."

He motioned in the general direction of Gold's shop and Neal had to chuckle at the comparison. They were a lot alike; they both had canes and everything.

"A lesser known, but just as basic rule, is that one never tries to undo the work of another. It takes infinitely more magic to do so and if one is fallowing the "use sparingly" rule, then surely you can understand where I'm going with this."

"Then we get Henry to—"

Merlin looked up, slightly confused. "It wasn't Henry who put the spell on you."

"It wasn't?" Neal asked. Henry was the only one he could thing of who would have motive for this particular spell. He had been sure it was the boy's fault since the moment he walked into the sheriff's office and felt the magic binding them together—making it impossible for them to be more than a few feet away from each other at any given time.

But if it wasn't Henry, then who was it? The list of magic users in the town was rather short and the list of those who would use it to help him was even shorter. And that's all it could be. If someone wanted to hurt them they would have, and hadn't Neal just been considering handcuffing her to him in so she would have to sit down and talk this out? Sure he hadn't been planning on taking the literal road.

Without it being Henry that only really left one person…

Merlin shook his head "And it's not your father either. His magic smells like a swamps ass. I would know."

"Then who is it?" Emma said.

Merlin shrugged. "Don't worry about it though. I know this spell. It's simple and on something of a timer. Give it a day, maybe two and it will ware itself out."

"Are you telling me that I'm stuck with _him _for two days?"

That hurt more than Neal wanted to admit. Emma being cold and distant was one thing, but flat out hostile was another.

All he wanted was a chance to make it up to her—to put right some of the shit he had fucked up in his quest to do the right thing. There was no way he could atone for everything, he had known that from the beginning and it when he found out about Henry, he had known it was even less possible then he thought.

But all he had wanted was a chance to try and Emma just seemed to hate him for it.

"Yes now please leave. I would like to finish my puzzle in peace."

Emma looked like she wanted to smack him. Hard. But she didn't, she just turned to leave, the spell dragging Neal along with her.

Neal looked over his shoulder at the wizard, sure there was something else going on—something just under the surface. Merlin met his eye and, with a twitch of his lips, gave a quick, conspiring little wink. Neal didn't know if the spell itself was his doing or if he just knew more than he was telling.

But Neal kept quiet. He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

* * *

It had been Emma's idea to call in sick for the rest of the day and for once Neal was kind of thankful that he didn't have a job… It kind of tended to make taking sick days a little easier. Considering the fact that her dad would be the one covering her shift, it hadn't exactly been difficult for her to get the time but that hadn't kept the conversation from making Emma more than a little awkward.

David agreed pretty quickly after Emma explained the situation and Neal couldn't help but wonder why. Sure it didn't take a rocket scientist to see the impracticality trying to enforce the rule of law while she would almost literally be dragging a bunch of useless, dead weight around, but he wondered if maybe David saw this the same way Neal himself did: an opportunity.

From what Neal had seen in Henry's book, Charming and Snow would defiantly understand about the complexities of love. Even back in the Enchanted Forest where, legend had it that everyone was guaranteed at least a chance at true love, it was something that had to be fought for tooth and earned.

The way she had explained the situation to her father had been unnecessarily harsh and it had hurt him more then he would ever admit to hear them. She was being so cold to him lately, ever since Thanksgiving really.

He leaned back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to at least appear to give her as much privacy as the curse would allow. He didn't really want to hear it either. It seemed like every word she said to him or about him was cruel (at least when Henry wasn't around-she knew better than that and, not matter what she felt or didn't feel for Neal, she would never hurt the kid that way).

Although he would never admit it to anyone, the situation kind of reminded him of the few memories he had of his parents before his mother had left. Even then he could see the tensions between them and knew she had only bit her tongue because she didn't want him to hear that. But he had known. It is never as easy as one would like to keep that kind of negativity away from the kids in that kind of situation. The worst part was that Neal knew it was fixable. It wasn't too late to mend whatever was rotting between them; they just had to work at it.

It wasn't said, but Neal kind of suspected that he had more people in his corner about this then he knew. Henry had made it clear which side he was rooting for, but David had left things up to guessing. He hadn't overtly supportive but it was hard to miss the look he had whenever Emma said something within ear shot.

Neal had gotten along pretty well with the prince when Henry made them practice together, and had quickly come to respect him. David was a good, intelligent, man, but Neal couldn't help but wonder how much of his opinions were linked to Emma's. Would he hate him now that Emma did?

That would really narrow down just who would talk to him. Most of the town avoided him because of his father and those few he knew weren't being as friendly as they used to because of the tensions between him and the hamlet's favorite family.

It hadn't always been like this between them. Back in the days before he knew about the cures, back when they had just been as close to innocent kids as life would allow, they had been able to talk about almost anything...at least anything important. And it wasn't like living together in cramped quarters was anything new. Spending a few days together should have been nothing, but now she was treating this bit of magic as if it were a death sentence.

Her attitude towards him had never been this bad. Ever. Hell, it hadn't even been that bad right after she had got back to Storybrooke and realized that he had come back into her and Henry's lives for good… before she had let him explain why he had done it. Why he had turned her in. Back when she had real reason to hate him.

Neal had thought that once she knew everything they could begin to heal. Sure their relationship may never be the pure and unblemished thing it used to be, but he had never expected it to be this bad.

If he didn't know better he would have thought that maybe she was really Cora in disguise or something (according to the rumors that was a favorite trick of the bitchy old witch) but he had asked and the Blue Fairy had worked a bit of her magic. Whatever was wrong with Emma was actually her. There was no easy way out of this one. Somehow he was going to have to break down that wall between them if he ever wanted back in.

"You know Emm," he muttered, not looking up as she snapped the phone shut, "this doesn't have to be a bad thing."

She looked over to him hatefully. "How is it not a bad thing? Just because we're forced to be in the same town doesn't mean that we're friends."

He wasn't imagining it. He _knew _he wasn't. Not many else would have picked up on it, but he knew Emma better then he knew himself. There was something in her voice, he couldn't say what it was exactly, but it was there and it gave him hope.

"I thought we were over this. I thought we had talked it out..."

He sighed, and changed directions, asking the one question that had been on his mind for a long time. The question he had been afraid to ask because he knew he just might not like the answer.

"Do you really hate me that much?"

She sighed and for a second Neal was sure she was going to yell at him. Tell him to fuck off or worse.

"I just can't afford this. I can't afford to let you hurt me again." Her words were whispered and Neal suspected she hadn't meant to say them aloud. Her eyes widened as she looked at him, realizing that he had to have heard.

He took a step towards her, his heart breaking, and she took a step back, only making the pain that much worse.

He stopped and ran his hands through his hair, exhausted with the conversation before it even began.

"I never wanted to begin with. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because I still don't get it," her voice was hard and cold and Neal knew she didn't want to have this conversation…at least not really. She hadn't meant for the conversation to get to this topic, but there was no backing down now.

"Get what?"

"So you knew about magic, fine," she said, destroying Neal with the hurt in her eyes, "But when August told you about the curse, why did you automatically go with his plan? Did you even consider another alternative to turning me in? To leaving me? Why couldn't we have just been together and then you drag Henry and I on a road trip or something?"

It was a valid question, one he was kind of surprised she hadn't asked or he had thought to answer it earlier.

"Would you have let me go if you didn't think I was the bad guy?" It hurt him to think about how much she seemed to hate him and what he had to do. Talking about it wasn't any better; actually it was so much worse. But she had to hear it, "I didn't have the strength to try and explain it then—at least whatever part of it I could have without you thinking I was crazy."

He licked his lips and looked up at her. "If I had just left you there, you would have followed me. You would have spent all your time looking."

"I did that anyways." Her voice sounded as broken as his heart.

"I was trying to give you a clean break."

Emma snorted but didn't say anything.

"What do you think would have happened if I had stayed?" he said, exasperated. "If I brought you and Henry here when the time was right and you found out that I had known about it all for ten years? The curse. Your _parents? _And when you found out the whole reason the old man made the damn thing to begin with, there was no way you wouldn't think our life together was anything but one big lie."

"What about right after you heard about after you heard of it? Why not bring me then? Tallahassee for us could have been anywhere. I wouldn't have cared if it was Maine or Florida."

"We probably wouldn't have been able to find the place at all." He muttered and she looked at him in confusion, "A few months after all that I tried to get in. I'm not even sure why, call it morbid curiosity, but even though I was of that world I couldn't find the town. I drove up and down the same stretch of road a million times and it was like the town wasn't even there."

Emma sighed and looked out the window. She knew he had a point and gave her a moment to digest the information, but they weren't done. Not by far. He had to tell her—she had to know this wasn't a choice he had made lightly.

"Maybe I fucked up, but you know Em, it was a no win situation. No matter what you were going to hate me for something and everyone else who was cursed were still going to suffer. There was no way I wasn't going to come out of this not looking like an ass. All I could do was try my best and hope that when all was said and done you could eventually forgive me" he sighed, his voice lowering, "and maybe even give me another chance."

She shook her head and, as much as she tried to hide it, Neal could see the truth like a revelation form the gods. The reasons things were getting worse between them was because they had been getting better. It was a convoluted thing, but it made since. Emma wasn't good with emotions and she didn't want to let him back behind her walls. She was pulling away so that she didn't fall back in love with him…or at least so she could pretend she had ever really stopped.

This was all a defense mechanism to keep him out. Whatever he was doing had been working...and now she couldn't even run away. Now more than ever he was convinced that this curse was actually a blessing hiding under a feeble mask of shit.

There was something poetic and beautiful about it. In almost every way he could think of, magic had fluked up his life. It had taken his father from him. His girlfriend, his kid. It had twisted their lives. It had taken Emma's parents away from her. And it had put Henry in much the same situation Neal had been in. It had forced him to choose between siding with a parent he loves and doing the right thing.

It was about time magic gave something back.

Neal sighed.

"Well, it looks like we're going to be stuck together a while." he said, taking a deck of playing cards out the drawer. "How about a game?"

* * *

Just because things had gotten on better terms after Emma's little slip up, didn't mean that they were back on pre-August terms. That night Emma got the bed, and although there was plenty of room for both of them amongst the soft pillows, Neal got the floor.

He didn't say one word in complaint but that didn't mean he was happy about it.

Everything in his mind had been shouting at him that this was his opportunity. The binding curse had been just what he needed to break down that wall she had built around herself—a wall that, since she and Neal had parted ways, had become something impenetrable and indestructible.

He had thought that, since she could no longer avoid him, he would at least be given a chance. But nothing in this world was given freely and it looked like this was going to be something he was going to have to steal.

Taking showers in the morning was an interesting challenge to say the least. Emma, of course, vetoed the idea of sharing so Neal was forced to stand so close to the tub that the back of his knees dug into the rim of the old clawfoot.

Just because she had blindfolded him so she couldn't watch her in the mirror didn't mean that his imagination wasn't running wild. Hell, it probably made it worse.

Every detail of Emma had been seared into his mind for over a decade. He would be lying if he said that he hadn't thought of her and often…and in a lot of different circumstances. In the shower was defiantly one of them, especially when they didn't have to play beat the maid.

He could picture as clearly as if she had glued his eyes open. He could imagine her face as she soaped up, the thick suds caressing every inch of her as she ran the poof slowly up her arm. The phantom silk of her hair made his palms tingle, and the smell of her skin filled his noise like the lingering sent of a feast long cleared from the table.

The fact that he was now just inches away from her and yet still so distant made it all the worse and to compensate, the image in his mind only got more and more vivid.

Neal imagined as gravity took hold and the suds slid down her shoulders and onto her back, some making their way down the side of her thighs and down her calves, while others mingled in her hair before sliding slowly between the firm globes of—

"Alright, your turn." Emma said, smacking him on the arm, giving him permission to take off the blindfold.

Neal bit the side of his cheek to hide his surprise. He had been so caught up in his fantasy that he hadn't even noticed her getting out the shower.

"That was fast," he muttered.

Emma didn't comment she just pulled the fluffy towel tighter around herself and took the blindfold out of his hand.

"You know you don't actually need that," he said, motioning to the blindfold. It wasn't like she hadn't seen everything before anyways. Emma just scrunched up her face and narrowed her eyes as she shoved the blindfold over her head.

She was making a show of it just for him and Neal didn't know if it was to piss him off or what. It was like she was trying really hard to pretend that their little heart to heart hadn't done anything…that it hadn't cleared the air between them and paved the way to something better.

Neal undressed and stepped into the shower.

This cold shoulder shit was getting tiring. He had fucked up, he knew that but she had been doing this for far too long. Hell, even she had admitted that it was more to do with not wanting to give him another chance then actually hating him.

Maybe it would have been easier for him if that had been the case, if there was truly no chance of reconciliation. If she really did hate him. But she still loved him, he had suspected as much the moment he had seen the bug sitting on Main Street and had known it the moment he had seen the keychain hanging around her neck like a talisman.

He peeked out of the curtain and watched as she stood there, arms crossed, blindfold firmly in place.

Fuck this. Once upon a time things had been a lot different between them: playful and light. Was this his punishment for trying to do the right thing? For putting the needs and wants of many above the needs and wants of a few? Was he supposed to stay so close to what he wanted but have it be just out of his reached, warped into something bitter and hateful?

He sighed and reached for the shampoo, and an ideal struck him. It was petty and childish, but maybe that's exactly what the moment needed. Besides, someone had to keep Emma on her toes...

Quietly pulling back the curtain, Neal held the shampoo bottle out just over her head and squeezed gently. The thick substance came out in a small stream and Emma didn't notice, not at first.

Neal chuckled. Maybe if she hadn't insisted on that damn blindfold...

After a few seconds she must have noticed the weight on top of her head, she reached up and touched the crown of her head, her fingers coming away covered in a slimy mess.

"Damn it Neal!" she hissed and Neal chuckled.

Emma's eyes narrowed and she let out a large, supposedly calming breath as she tossed off the towel and the blindfold before stepping into the shower in front of him.

Neal wasn't sure if she had somehow guessed what he had been thinking about earlier, but he was sure she was trying to taunt him. Without looking at him she continued to rinse the shampoo out of her hair.

Oaky so maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Hadn't he just been complaining that in Storybrooke he could look but not touch? And that had just been in the metaphorical sense. This took it to a whole new level of torture.

Neal's fingers twitched.

"Touch me, Cassidy, and I'll break it off," she said not turning around.

Neal's fingers pulled together in a fist in an impressive show of self-control.

"And I wasn't talking about your hand."

For a second he paled before he noticed something, a nuanced in her voice that tipped her hand probably more then she had wanted to. Emma was trying to sound tough but there was a playful note to her voice-one he didn't think she intended to be there-and he could hear that she wasn't serious.

Damn her and her mixed messages. It was impossible for him to tell just where they were at any given moment. Were they kind of oaky or did she hate him again? It was like trying to keep his eye on the ace when all the cards kept shuffling and there was only one thing he could do: guess.

Neal took a deep breath and made a decision.

The first time someone had caught him drawling—it had been a teacher while he was doodling, trying to keep his mind busy in a class that was so far above his level—he had quickly snapped the note book shut. The teacher looked at him and, while he expected to get scolded for not paying attention, he just shook his head and gave him a bit of advice "It's better to be laughed at for doing what you love and doing it horribly then to be the next Picasso and never picking up a brush."

At the time he hadn't gotten the reference but as he became more and more familiar with this world he began to see the truth in it. The teacher had been completely wrong about why he wouldn't show his art. It hadn't been out of some self-consciousness, it had been because it was a privet thing for him, something he wasn't ready or willing to share.

That didn't make his advice any less true, though. It was better to take a chance and fail then to let life pass you by while you act like a coward just to hide form the rejections and the pain. He wasn't going to get anywhere if he didn't at least try.

"Emma," he said, stepping closer.

She turned around and before she could say anything he kissed her letting everything he had been feeling since coming to Storybrooke (hell, everything he had felt since meeting her) pour out in that one instant. This time it lasted a lot longer than seven seconds.

He wasn't the only one emptying his heart into that kiss. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck just as he did the same to her waist, pulling her closer.

Their tongues mingled, trying to devour each other. This is what he had been fantasying about for eleven years and reality had exceeded every detail his mind could come up with. Her skin like silk and the feeling of her fingernails digging deliciously into the back of his head.

He took a step forward, pushing her against the cool, wet tile and instinctually she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer. She wanted this; she needed this just as bad as Neal did. He could feel how turned on she was, how wet (and it had nothing to do with the shower) and he was just as hard.

Neal slid his hands down to her ass, ready to position her to…

"Neal," she gasped, breaking the kiss. He smiled in satisfaction and moved his head down to trail kisses along her collar bone.

"No," she said, killing the mood.

Fuck.

Neal stared at her for a second, not enough blood left in his brain to instantly register the meaning behind the word. One look at her face though, was all it took. She was sorry, but she wasn't ready to go where this was undoubtedly going to lead.

He let go completely and stepped back, his foot landing on a bar of soap they hadn't noticed as they were playing tonsil hockey.

He tumbled backwards like something out of a child's cartoon, arms flailing as he tried to find some way to break his fall. Lot of good that did him. He only managed to tare the shower curtain off its hooks as he fell through it, barely missing hitting his back against the hard porcelain of the toilet seat.

If that wasn't bad enough, the curse pulled Emma down with him just as comically… but at least she had something a bit softer to land on even if he was left to wonder only half kidding, if she had broken some of his ribs in the process.

For a second he braced himself for her harsh words at the intimate position they found themselves in, lying there naked on the floor, blood still racing, but they never came.

He let out a full bodied laugh, not entirely sure what was funny, and she followed. For a few seconds he could pretend that it was still before. This was the kind of crazy thing that had defined their lives then, before the curse and the watches and the well-meant and yet upkeepable promises of Tallahassee.

"We really need to get this curse broken." Emma said, her laughter dying, but she did not try and get up from where she laid on top of him.

Neal sighed in frustration and rested his head against the cool tile but he didn't' argue with her.

This was exhausting. For every two steps forward they had to take one step back. But still that was progress, right?


	19. Magic

Sorry about the wait on this one. It's unbated. I sent it off but didn't hear any thing for like three days so figured i'd post it anyways and will repost once I get the revised copy. Also, i did something i never wanted to do...the last section isn't from Neal's POV but the interaction between those two was just too juicy to pass up.

Enjoy.

* * *

It was Emma's idea to walk over to Merlin's house. They had tried to call but he wouldn't answer—that wasn't exactly unusual though. From what he guessed, the wizard was the kind of guy to take the damn thing off the hook just to enjoy the silence.

But maybe it was better this way. Emma wasn't going to drop this until she got what she wanted and, as much as it hurt him, she wanted to be free of him. Maybe hearing again how they were going to have to just grit and bear it would keep Emma satisfied this time. Probably not though.

They walked. Merlin's house was just a few blocks away and, secretly, Neal suspected that Emma enjoyed dragging him around as he halfheartedly tried to pull in the opposite direction just to mess with her. It was all fun and games, at least until they ran into someone.

"Bae," Gold said, clearly glad to see him.

Neal stopped a few feet away from his father to say hi. Things were still really rocky between them, but he was trying to make it work, and ignoring him on the sidewalk would be a little counterproductive. It didn't help though that Emma was hell bent on beating the answers out of Merlin if that's what it took. She kept going after he stopped and, as she moved, the curse tried to pull him with it like a puppet.

Neal sighed. Would it have been too much to hope his father hadn't noticed?

"What's—?" Gold asked motioning to the space between them.

Guess so.

"It looks like some sort of curse or spell or something." Neal muttered. He didn't want to get into this with him. Magic was still a very sore subject between them and Neal didn't want him trying to fix this with Dark Magic or trying to seek revenge on whomever the hell did it. Neal feared that Gold knowing about this curse was just popping the top on a can of trouble they really didn't need to deal with right now.

"Any idea who did it?"

Neal and Emma shared a look. Neal had made it clear that he didn't want the old man to know Henry was learning Magic. Gold would want to be the one to teach him and, although things were getting better between Neal and the old man, he still didn't trust him. Magic had destroyed him so quickly and thoroughly before and Neal wasn't going to risk that with Henry. Maybe it was the kind of magic the old man had or the way he used it, but either way he wasn't going to let that happen to Henry. It was bad enough that the kid wanted to learn it at all but the blue fairy had recommended Merlin to them and that had been enough to assuage Neal's fears...at least as much as they could be.

That didn't mean that Neal wanted Gold to know.

He wanted his father to stop using magic but he hadn't brought the issue up. Even now when he could no longer use finding him as an excuse, Neal knew he wouldn't give it up. He would find some other excuse to parrot back ("But without magic, how am I going to protect you and Belle?") so he hadn't mentioned it.

Their relationship was as fragile as butterfly wings at the moment and he didn't want to introduce the neighborhood bully to the mix right now. But it was like a fat kid at the mention of free ice-cream. There was no stopping it now.

Neal sighed. Henry's extracurricular were going to come out into the open and perhaps it was better the old man heard it from him rather than the town gossip.

"We think its Henry, but Merlin swears it couldn't be him."

Rumple didn't even try to hide the confusion on his face. "What does Merlin have to do with this?"

The part of Neal that was still that little boy—the one who had tried to so hard to keep his father from knowing how the other kids made fun of him for being the son of a coward…the boy that always tried to spare his father's feelings—had to struggle to keep from fidgeting in apology as he answered his father's question.

"He's the one who had been teaching Henry magic," he said, his voice deceptively calm.

"I see."

Neal couldn't tell if he sounded disappointed or if it was something else entirely in his voice, but whatever it was, it caused Neal's gut to twist in quilt. It was stupid really. After all Gold had done, after what he had become, there was no reason Neal should feel this way. Neal had every right to be angry with him, to hate him, and a part of him did. Even with as far as they had come, Neal knew that without Emma and Henry tying him to Storybrooke, and he would never have come here in the first place, let alone stayed.

He should not feel this guilty for hurting him…but he did.

"And Merlin hasn't offered to fix this?" Gold asked a dangerous note in his voice and Neal knew where this was going.

Neal shook his head, trying to head the old man off. He was a grown man and had been on his own for a very long time. He could take care of himself and Rumple had no business going bat shit crazy every time someone gave Neal the slightest insult. Besides, Gold had a very bad habit of putting the 'kill' in overkill.

"He says the spell will wear off and that unless we can find who did it and have them reverse it, it's best just to let it run its course." Although Neal didn't say anything outright, his voice made it more than clear that Rumple needed to back off.

Gold pressed his lips, and for a moment Neal was afraid that he was going to ignore the warning in his voice and insist on intervening, but thankfully, his father said noting on the matter. Instead, he tried a little tact.

"Well perhaps I can help you there."

Neal was impressed at his father. Perhaps he was changing.

"How?" Emma asked, speaking up for the first time since this little get together began.

Rumpled turned to look at her and smiled, "Well Miss Swan, each kind of magic has its own signature. If I can isolate what kind of magic was used, then maybe i can at least give you a general list of suspects."

Neal looked at Emma, he really didn't want his father doing magic, but she had made it clear that she wanted the curse broken.

Neal swallowed and nodded at his father. "Thanks."

Gold had them stand as far apart as the curse would let them. Neal thought it was an odd request but they did as he asked. Emma however, wasn't content with silence.

"What's this for, exactly," Emma asked as they both struggled against the bindings of the tension in their shoulders as if a giant rubber band held them together.

"It forces the magic to work harder, making the signature stronger," Gold said almost absentmindedly as he summoned a glass vile and waved it in the air between them. After a few seconds he put the cap on it and healed it, pouring a little bit of magic into it. The vapor solidified and turned into a kind of liquid substance. The sunlight shown through the vial showing the liquid to be a sickly and regal purple.

Gold summoned a piece of old looking parchment and Neal had to wonder if that was necessary or for show as he poured the liquid onto it. The liquid danced across the parchment before settling like ink. Its motions forming a hand full of symbols Neal had never seen before had no clue how to read. But Gold could.

"How interesting," he muttered, both surprised and amused.

"What?" Emma asked, impatient.

"I know who your mysterious magician is."

"And?" Neal asked, looking at his father.

"Mark Malory."

* * *

"What I don't get," Emma said, pacing back and forth in front of the bleachers, "is why."

They had dragged the kid out of training the moment they had gotten to the school's track field. Neal had to admit he did not see this one coming. Henry doing this, he understood. The kid had made it clear that he wanted his parents back together despite whatever happened in the past. Honestly, Neal didn't think Henry was the only one to see it, Mary-Margret and David weren't blind either.

But Mark? What difference did all this make to him?

Mark just looked at her, his face a little too calculatingly natural, and shrugged. "I guess the real question is why not."

Neal gave him a look. Sometimes trying to figure out what was going on in this kids head was about as hard as trying to get a read on Merlin himself. "I thought Merlin wasn't going to teach you magic."

Mark snorted. "He isn't but he had been letting me look in on his and Henry's lessons. That way I don't have to sneak onto the roof again. Between that and the books mom has around the house, it's not exactly difficult."

"So you just decided to use us to practice on?" Neal asked, not really as mad as he should be…or at least not as mad as Emma looked.

"You were kind of easy targets and I thought it would be funny."

Emma studied him for a moment but wasn't buying it; the kid was trying far too hard to keep his tone even for that to be the truth…or at least all of it. He was hiding something, letting it simmer and just under the surface.

Emma kneeled down in front of him until they were at eye level. "I thought I told you about my superpower..." she began softly.

Mark rolled his eyes and let out a laughing breath. "You can tell when someone's lying. I got that. Good thing I'm not lying."

Neal snorted. The kid was good but he and Emma had spent a great deal of time mastering the art of bullshit. He wasn't that good.

"A lie by omission is still a lie." Neal said.

Mark looked down, thought it wasn't exactly in guilt. "It was Henry's idea."

"What?" Emma asked, clearly furious. He had been known to do some mischievous shit but there was a line he should never have crossed. That was one of the reasons Neal and she hadn't pressed Merlin when he swore it wasn't the kid. Even though he was the only one with an obvious motive, he was smarter than that.

"No," Mark said, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on his folded hands, "He didn't even know, but he was the one who gave me the idea. He just told me how he kind of thinks it sucks that you two obviously still love each other but are trying so hard not to. He thought if you two would just hang out a bit then you could be friends again."

Neal had been thinking the same thing. But it was a little creepy coming from this kid. He had taken quite the likening to Henry's family and it was a little obsessive. Almost. Or it was cute, Neal couldn't quite tell which.

"Why do you care?" Emma asked, echoing Neal's thoughts.

Mark looked up. "Because Henry's my friend and I want the best for him..."

Emma didn't say anything. Although Mark's stalker-ish explanation may have been the truth, it wasn't the whole truth and she wasn't going to stop until she got more information.

Mark sighed and tilted his head towards the clouds, his voice taking on a depressed and defeated tone. "My life at home sucks, so is it so wrong for me to live vicariously through him? I mean it would be different if you guys were like the whore and incapable of feeling anything for anyone else, but you're not. You two obviously really care for each other. Even I can see that and I'm an eleven year old with about as much relationship experience as a one of those African orphans that never got held."

"Kid." Emma said reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder but the kid jerked away.

"I'll let the curse go." He muttered.

Mark got up out of his seat and started to walk away but after a few steps he stopped and looked back at him, something unreadable in his dark eyes. "Look you guys have a shot at a real happy ending and I just figured it would be stupid to let something like this get in the way of that. I had to try and I'm sorry if it just made things worse. I was trying to help."

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin waited until night had fallen to make this particular errand. This didn't need to become common knowledge, and he didn't want to have to fend off Bae's questions if word of this ever got back to him. There were just some things Bae didn't need to know…not if Rumple could take care of the problem himself.

And that was exactly what he intended to do. With a firm, assured hand, he knocked three times on the dark blue door, sure that despite the late hour, the renter of this particular property would still be awake.

He wasn't disappointed as Merlin answered the door.

"Rumplestiltskin, to what do I owe the pleasure?" The apparently younger man said when he saw who was at the door. Only the centuries of acquaintance between the two men allowed Rumple to detect the slight not of sarcasm in Merlin's voice.

Rumple didn't answer. He just stared and watched as the silence made the corner of Merlin's lips tug upwards in the barest hint of a smile. He wouldn't deny that the other man's arrogance was beginning to grate at him the wrong way, but Rumple said nothing, challenging the other man in his silence.

Merlin chuckled and stepped away from the door, not verbally inviting Rumple inside and yet not slamming the door in his face. It didn't matter either way. It wouldn't have stopped Rumple and Merlin knew that. Besides, this was a conversation best had in privet.

Merlin in effect ignored his guest and Rumple stood wordless, waiting for the moment when his next words would do the most damage.

The other man turned and walked back to the workbench full of magical ingredients and potion bottles set up in the living room. Rumple waited until he had just resumed working on whatever project he had been before coming to the door.

"It's rather funny isn't it, that young Mark can do magic."

Merlin stilled and turned, slowly facing him like something out of a horror movie.

"Do not insult my intelligence or yours by pretending either of us didn't know it was a possibility. In truth, you would have known about it long before I did." His voice had a note of anger that was uncharacteristic for him. Rumple smiled. He had hit a nerve. Good.

"What do you want?" Merlin asked again.

Rumple smiled, a vicious little smile, and dug his cane into the carpet, enjoying having the upper hand in the situation.

"I want you to stay away from my grandson."

Merlin gave a little laugh and leaned against his workbench as if he were struggling not to fall to the ground, clutching his sides.

"Henry's your grandson? When did this happen?" he asked in mock surprise, his voice taking on a bitter tone. Rumple shouldn't have been surprised that Merlin was going to make him pay for hitting that nerve earlier, but seeing as how someone getting the upper hand on him was so rare, rumple couldn't help but feel a little off kilter at this turn in events.

"Was it before or after you handed him over to Regina—you know, the woman you turned into such a monster she would kill her own father just to enable her revenge."

Rumple's eyes widened in anger and not just at Merlin. He would never admit it out loud but the wizard had hit a sore subject, one that Rumple tried desperately to ignore. It wasn't his fault that things turned out the way they had. If he had known who Henry was…

"Now who's being insulting?" Rumple spat and Merlin's lips twitched in amusement, knowing he had gotten under his skin.

"You're going to stay away from Henry." Rumple was done with this verbal sparring. It was time to get down to business.

"Or?" Merlin said, challenging him with every nuance of his voice. Rumple's brow furrowed. If Merlin was going to play hardball, he was about to learn just how fast Rumple could pitch. He stepped forward until he was mere inches from the other man's face, making sure Merlin understood every word of his threat.

"You did try so hard to keep her from finding out about our deal; it would be a pity if the truth were to come out. Dare we say her reaction would be quite unpredictable?"

Merlin leaned back, half sitting and half standing against the table and a trickle of unease shot down Rumple's spine. That amount of comfort was not the attitude one showed if they were worried about a threat of that magnitude.

"Yes it would. The truth has a bad habit of ripping one's heart out. I'm sure you'd understand, after all, I'm not the only one in here with sins to their name and when those sins come to light…well that's rarely pleasant for anyone."

Rumple's eyes widened at the innuendo. If he was threatening what Rumple thought he was…

"If you so much as breathe a word—"

"About what?" Merlin asked, playing dumb. Rumple knew his game. He wanted Rumple to say it out loud, but he wasn't going to. He couldn't risk it on the off chance that the wizard didn't already know what had happened to Milah. If this was just some sort of ploy, Rumple didn't want to give him a weakness to exploit.

He took a deep breath and changed the subject. It couldn't stay in this minefield for long without something dark and bloody blowing up in his face.

"I know what you are and you are in no position to be teaching that boy magic."

Merlin snorted in laughter.

"And you're any better? Speaking of which, I really must thank you for bringing magic back" he said motioning to his workbench "I truly have missed it, even if I didn't quite know what I was missing. Let's just be thankful you didn't have to pay too high a price for it, especially considering if you had allowed even a drop of that potion to heal henry instead of counting on miss swan's kiss to waken him, then there surely wouldn't have been enough to bring magic here." Sarcasm was dripping from every word and Merlin was enjoying this far too much.

He had hit another sore spot and Rumple could not let it stand. With all the fury he could muster (and after centuries of being the Dark One, he could muster quite a bit) he summoned a fireball in his hand, content in turning this worthless maggot into a grease spot on the opposite wall. Merlin held out his hand, palm up, and gently blew. A burst of frigid air hit Rumple in the face and, before he could completely register what had happened, the fireball turned into a dense, heavy chunk of ice.

Rumple let the ice fall and swung out with his cane, intending to hit the other man across the face, but Merlin was faster. He grabbed it with one hand and used it as leverage to push Rumple against the far wall, the ornate gold cane handle digging sharply into the underside of his chin.

"A word of advice," Merlin muttered, this time it was his turn to invade Rumple's personal space. "Don't get into a pissing contest with me. I think you'll find I'm better equipped to win."

He let go of the cane and went back to his workstation, continuing with his project sas his voice and demeanor suddenly returned to a neutral tone.

"We've been acquaintances for a long while now Rumplestiltskin, and unfortunately for you, you have failed to grasp the one major attribute that separates us. Unlike you, I take great care to make sure innocents aren't caught in the middle of what I do. I have no reason to tell your son about the true motivations behind Hook's quest for revenge. It is simply not my business and I think it will do more harm than good."

Rumple stood there fuming, wanting to hurt him, but wanting to hear his words more. Now that Rumple knew that Merlin had that one piece of information to hold over his head, he couldn't afford to act rashly now. Bae wouldn't understand and the last thing he wanted was for a single mistake to upset the small bit of fragile footing he had in his son's life right now.

"And you can rest assured," Merlin continued as if he didn't really care if Rumple found solace in his words at all, "I have no interest in harming the boy. I don't treat my apprentices quite as callously as you do yours. The fact remains that he is very powerful and needs to be trained. Someone with that much power and an interest in accessing it, who doesn't have a guide, is just asking for trouble."

Merlin turned to face Rumple, his next words both an honest truth and sincere warning.

"I don't want to hurt Henry or his father, by revealing the truth. We've had a rather neutral acquaintance as of yet. Don't give me reason to want and change that."


End file.
